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yamagucji · 4 years

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Embarrassing moments

warnings. just for shits n giggles, 14+ readers preferably, mentions of vomit, poop, choking, etc.

HINATA was extremely constipated and needed to use the bathroom quick. but there’s a long line to the mens bathroom (what’s the occasion anyway??) and he’s standing all the way at the back. poor hinata felt a fart coming so he just couldn’t... hold it in. mans SHARTED. shitted and farted at the same time. it stunk so bad that the guys in front of him said, “damn, you need the toilet more than me,” and let him cut in line.

USHIJIMA and tendou stopped to pet this dog during their walk. tendou’s conversing with the owner while toshi’s petting the dog. dog likes it, it’s all good. until... it got bored and decided that toshi’s butt smelled good. dog just wouldn’t stop sniffing his ass. “please, stop smelling me,” toshi says with desperation, which now catches the others’ attention. the owner has to pry their dog away from toshi’s ass cheeks, please. the awkward tension kinda dies down until tendou utters, “so, what’s your secret? what product are you using?”

YAMAGUCHI drank water in the middle of silent class reading. this boy started choking— and i mean choking on his water. you can hear his muffled coughs in the distance and when you turn around to look at him, his face is all red and his cheeks are puffy. none of his classmates say anything but you can practically feel second-hand embarrassment oozing around. the assistant teacher even has the audacity to say, “drink some water.”

KENMA’s calling this one his last try. he sticks his remaining coins into the slot and tries to get the brand new nintendo box thats in the machine. mf has been going at this for over twenty minutes now. his pouch is empty and there’s a crowd of kids waiting for him. no miracle happens in his last try (shit got stuck!!) so he has to move away only to watch in horror— as the kid after him manages to get it. you’re gonna have to hold kenma down before he hunts that kid with every bit of his soul.

DAICHI had a fat one coming in, that’s for sure. thought it was a free real estate just because everyone else in the camp seemed asleep. so he let that monster fart come out (even partly stuck out his thigh for better airway). whole team was awake in a matter of seconds. nishinoya’s jumped off his sleeping bag and asking everyone if they heard that “loud bang.” tanaka’s over here sniffing around because he knows that no one has got some kind of bomb that stinks.

SAKUSA’s not gonna admit to this one. but one time he opened a bathroom stall (it was unlocked) only to find that it was occupied. there are no words to accurately describe just how horried the sight was. sitting on the toilet was a man taking a shit, with his dick on full boner mode, staring back at sakusa. they only made eye contact for just 2 seconds but sakusa’s seen enough. he’s heard enough too, when said stranger asked him, “you wanna join me?”

ASAHI projectile vomited at the theaters. you should’ve known it was a bad idea to take him out to dinner before going to watch a scary movie. man had no courage to tell you he had an upset stomach nor tell you he’s not a fan of horror. it’s twenty minutes into the movie and he’s poking your arm— but you don’t notice because you’re too engrossed. another twenty minutes, and a jumpscare comes on. man beside you vomits like there’s no tomorrow. ya’ll spend the rest of the movie secretly trying to clean his throw-up.

TENDOU was watching anime in his dorm peacefully. until... the whole shiratorizawa team opened the door just in time for the show to switch up to an inappropriate scene. out of all the times they could’ve walked in, they really had to come when 2d clown man was moaning and fighting a kid? tendou scrambled to close his laptop but now he’s just staring back at his teammates; silent, except for the fact that his show is still playing and you can still hearing moaning in the background.

TSUKISHIMA turned his house upside down and still couldn’t find his glasses, nor his extra pair. he was about to leave bare eyed until his mom caught him and forced him to wear his sports glasses. yeah, the one with the whole strap and everything. mans looked like a fool coming to school with it on. people who didn’t know it was his sports glasses mistook it for swimming goggles. he’s so utterly humiliated now, he can’t even bite back when hinata or kageyama says something.

GOSHIKI... i don’t even know what to tell you. who let this kid go further into the lake by himself? it’s all fun and games for everyone until you hear an ear-defeaning shriek by your one and only goshiki. he’s yelling out, “help me! please! help!!” the lifeguards start kicking in and everyone’s trying to make way. is he drowning? is there something there? no for god’s sake. you find out he just made it 5 ft deep and happened to swim over a bunch of seaweed. never take him swimming again.

ATSUMU decided to check himself out using someone’s car window. he’s fixing his hair, picking at his teeth, and even checking to see if he has any boogers. all of a sudden the window rolls down and there’s a senior citizen staring back at him. “boy do you think my car is your mirror?” the man says in a gruffy voice. atsumu’s knees nearly buckle from how scary this man is and how embarrassed he is of all the four minutes he probably spent with this stranger.

SACHIRO’s job as a vet sometimes makes him do really questionable shit (from an outsider perspective). once he had to ejaculate someone’s dog in front of their owner. uh huh... jack them off, for the sole purpose of examining the dog’s semen. he’s never felt such a wave of regret wash through his body during that whole procedure. it didn’t help when the owner was looking at him mortified, nor the fact that it took such a long time.

OIKAWA does this thing were he shows up unexpectedly behind iwaizumi and slaps his ass. everytime he does it iwa always hits him back (but not the ass). today he learnt his lesson when he mistook a stranger for iwa and slapped the guys ass from the moon and back. when i tell you just how quick all the blood drained from oikawa’s body when the man turned around— you can hear a bag of chips fall at the other end of the aisle and it’s the iwa, who had to witness that whole ass-slap event.

ARAN is gonna knock the shit of the miya twins one day, he swears to god. they sent him a mysterious video during his morning walk, where he stopped at a busy street. it starts off quiet, so he goes to turn the volume up full blast. damn video suddenly started blaring ‘lick my pussy and my-’ please... he’s shaking. passerby’s are looking at him with distaste. aran’s now flushed from embarrassment and running towards the miya house. you can guess what happens next.

BOKUTO walked into the wrong house. spent a whole ten minutes rummaging around the kitchen because his friend said to “make yourself comfortable, i’ll be on my way.” little did this man know that there’s a whole family upstairs waiting for the cops to arrive because they think it’s a robbery. poor bokuto, dragged out of the house by some cops but had no idea what was going on. man was literally just vibing— thinking he was in his friends house.

OSAMU swore this size pants still fit him (hint: it doesn’t). he’s walking through the snack section of the store, lightly limping because damn his dick can’t breath. his truth is tested when he goes to pick something off the lowest shelf and his pants literally go, ‘let er rip.’ fabric tore, and what’s worse is that he was wearing onigiri undies. osamu goes to check if there’s anyone else in the aisle and there is— a group of underclassmen girls from his high school.

KUROO tried to make his chemistry presentation more interesting by putting in jokes. he thought they were funny; kenma even huffed a breath. kuroo’s at his third joke by now and literally no one has laughed. not a single one. except for kuroo himself, who’s awkwardly laughing in a dead-silent room. man was embarrassed. other people are getting second-hand embarrassment by the way they avoided eye contact with him. he vented to kenma later only for kenma to say, “it wasn’t funny. it was just stupid.” poor kuroo.

SUNA accidentally connected his bluetooth to the bus. you know, the one that drives all of inarizaki to their games. wanna guess what the fuck he might’ve been listening to? it’s porn. he’s watching porn in broad daylight. suna doesn’t realize what the issue is until he goes to turn up the volume and notices that the sound is off. he take his airpods off and that’s when he hears pure moaning sounds blaring inside the bus. everyone’s laughing— except for kita and their coach who’s still outside. mf calls himself lucky for that.

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dimorphodon-x · 2 years

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Haven’t felt like doing much today but here’s a Protege sketch and a short thing I wrote a while ago.

—

The floor was dirty. The pale silver jet could only stare at the dust particles below his suspended frame, his limbs restrained and his back plates folded open. Protege could feel the cold air on his lifecord, a very gross sensation he didn’t wish to describe. There was movement at the edge of his line of sight, but he couldn’t even move his eyes, and the rest of his senses were muddled, so he could barely hear anything very well. Frustrating, as his greatest senses were his sight and hearing.

Something sharp zapped his back, making his left hand twitch. It hurt in an irritating way, but he was unable to react. More sharp zaps followed up and down his lifecord, the energy being deployed made his limbs and wings twitch and pull at the restraints. A strong shock just below his neck made him throw his head back, a soft strain of air left his mouth.

As his head dropped back down, a green hand caught his chin and he was forced to stare into the visor of a smaller cybertronian. She studied him from behind the green glass and grinned.

Scrapwing, he picked up her name when he was being dragged in. After a good knock to the head though, his memories after his capture were fuzzy and he couldn’t recall much else, like getting hooked up to this whatever the hell machine.

“Looks like he’s taking the procedure pretty well. When did you say he’d be ready for the games?” Scrapwing looked away towards someone he couldn’t see. He couldn’t quite pick up the response either, but it seemed to please the smaller dinky flier as she let go of his face, “ah! Perfect! It’s been way too long since I last incorporated a new cy…”

Her voice muffled with distance as she walked away with a skip in her step, leaving him to continue enduring the more than unpleasant procedure for another ten or so minutes.

Whatever torture machine the young jet was hooked up to stopped poking at his spine when Scrap returned, letting some of his senses clear up. Protege could now hear things clearly and move a little. He curled his fingers and pulled his lips back in a snarl as he glared at his captor.

“Hey now, no need for that face,” she let out a snort, “anyway, I’m sure you’re dying to know what’s going on, right?”

He opened his mouth to shout a bunch of obscenities at her, but could only let out a jumble of static. Scrap let out another amused snort.

“Hah, I love that fire in your eyes,” she held her hands up like a frame, squinting one eye shut as she stared at his face, “it always changes to terror when they learn they’re currently undergoing the reformatting process. HAH-see! Just like that!”

The silver mech’s spark dropped. Reformation? Why? Was it because he was bad? Were his superiors behind this? His manufacturers?? Had they gotten tired of him??

“@—//&*#-y?!” More static tumbled from his voice box and he pulled at his restraints. He let out a frustrated whirr through his vents, the closest he could get to snarling with a malfunctioning voice.

“Hey, easy buddy! Don’t worry, you won’t remember any of this when it’s over!” Scrap patted his shoulder with one of her disproportionately large hands, “it won’t be so bad. You won’t have to fight in a war you were born into, and you’ll be safe under my care. I’ll provide you with fuel and everything. You need it, I got the dough to get it.”

Scrap withdrew her hand when the silvery mech snapped at her, his vents whistling and glitched vocals hissing. His mouth moved to form words that went unheard.

Let me go! I’ll be good!

His captor smiled at him and stepped away, making a motion with her hand. The machine Protege was hooked up to started up again, the damned device once again sapping away his senses and mobility.

The young soldier’s blue optics fogged up. He begged his mouth to move, for his frame to just listen.

Please! I’ll be good, I promise!

His left eye was starting to see black spots and his frame started to tremble uncontrollably. He could hear voices, but couldn’t make out any words. His jaw snapped open with a loud crack as he felt… something in his frame twist.

I’ll be good! I’ll listen!

“STOP!!”

I promise to change! Please!

Something was pressing against his brain. He let out a sob.

I’ll be good! I’ll be-

*click*

…

#my art #transformers #transformers oc #protege #fanfic

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softscummymammon · 3 years

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€Unexpected Acquaintance€

Assisted by:: @jinjinjinjin

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

Sukuna just wanted this day to end. He was already in a bad mood from the storm last night, where he got little of his much needed sleep, and his mood had only gotten worse when he was faced with a bunch of "nature friendly" bastards protesting near the docks where his boat was tied down.

Now, he just wanted to get his daily load of fish for the market, and have a nap without dealing with any other goody two shoe hypocrites. He could already feel the headache building up behind his eyes.

Though the gentle rocking of the boat over the surface of the water did ease him slightly. People besides other fishermen were always so confused when he actually said something about himself and it happened to his be career in fishing. They were always so astounded when he said he could stay on a boat for a whole day. Weaklings, all of them.

Rubbing at his sore eyes, Sukuna glared at the surface of the horizon and took a sip of the alcohol in his canteen. Tucking the tin back into his wader's pocket, he patted the pocket for safe keeping.

Walking to the front of the boat, he checked his net markers he left a few days ago. Sukuna gasped when he saw his marker bobbing up and down frantically. Getting his equipment ready, he tugged on some gloves and grabbed at the net right under the marker.

Taking a breath, Sukuna started tugged on the net. Grabbing every piece of net coming from the water, Sukuna huffs as he pulls the net further and further from the water. The sound of splashing water reached his ears and he smirked in victory.

Putting all the access netting into one hand, Sukuna quickly reaches behind him for the mechanical hook. The machinery on his boat was built and bought by him only, so only he knew how it worked. By reaching for the net first, he can easily tie the access onto the hook and pull up the rest of it out of the water.

Doing exactly what was needed, he tied the net to the hook and grabbed onto the leaver and started cranking the leaver clockwise. The machinery raised the net out of the water better than he ever could. The load he hauled onto his deck made him smile and rub his hands together gleefully.

" This shipment is definitely worth a pretty penny. Now, all I gotta do it sort you out, fish sticks. "

*Slap* "Who you callin' fish sticks, blubber mouth?! "

Sukuna froze. Looking up, he raised his hand to his face and wiped away some water the fish that had been thrown at him left on his cheek. Peering down at the fish now flopping on his deck, he gave the thing a death glare; as if that would give him any answers. He must really be going crazy-

"Up here, blubber-for-brains. "

His eyes snapped up towards the voice. But the air in his lungs escaped as if they were punched out of him. A human(?)'s upper torso was visible at the top of the net. It was leaning against the hook of the machinery and was throwing and catching a fish in its hand.

Sukuna raised a brow, " What the fuck? "

The thing raised one of its brows back, " Nice use of language, Oh Smart One. I thought you humans were supposed to be intelligent. Though, every one of your kind I've encountered uses fowl language, so smarts must just be a myth. "

Sukuna growled at the things snarky commentary, " Oh yeah? And what kind of intelligent creature like you gets stuck in a fishing net, huh? So much for being smart. "

The thing snarled, showing off rust colored stained teeth dyed by no doubt blood as sharp as many of Sukuna's own fileting knives. It held tightly onto the fish in its hand, " Watch your mouth, human, I still got a whole lotta of ammo here, and your face is lookin' like a big ol' target from where I'm sittin'. "

Sukuna rose an unimpressed eyebrow and pulled out a harpoon gun he kept in the captain's quarters, " Mine hurts worse. "

The thing flinched back and hissed at the gun, but slowly set down the poor he probably squeezed to death in his panic. The thing made a whiny sound in the back of its throat, " I didn't choose to get stuck here. I was getting chased by some shark mers. Those nasty ones only know the smell of blood and the next potential meal. I'd choose to be anywhere else right now, trust me. "

Sukuna huffed, " Yeah, sure. " Putting away the gun, Sukuna sighed and looked back up to the sulking thing. Looking closer, he was the slightest shine of scales decorating the cheeks, neck, and forearms of the thing. Its eyes were steely and sunken in, as if it's seen things beyond it's life time.

Sukuna chuckled upon realization, " You're a mermaid, aren't you? "

The mer scoffed, " Merman, thank. But 'mer' is just fine. I still don't get why ya humans always gotta gender code things. Damn, just call us what we are? "

Sukuna chuckled again, " What? Nuisances? "

The mer hissed again, " We wouldn't be if ya humans knew to keep to yerselves. Ain't this section of the coast off limits to fishers like yerself? "

Sukuna shrugged, not giving an answer. The mer scoffed and crossed it's arms over it's chest. Sukuna looked at it up and down, taking in everything he could. He hummed delightfully.

The mer must have caught on, " What'cha lookin at me fer? Think I'm some sorta snack for yer to eat? "

Sukuna shook his head no, " Nah, I was just rememberin how much one of your kind goes to sell on the blackmarket. You gotta be worth something. No rich bastard would give up the opportunity to call a thing like you pet. "

The mer's eyes went thin, but already creamy skin paled considerably, " You wouldn't... "

Sukuna rose a brow, " Oh, and why wouldn't I? I could definitely use the money. "

The thing stayed quiet, before it soon started to shake. Sukuna was about to sneer and comment about it being weak, but paused when a face formed from agony and rage shot up to glare at him. Sukuna had to keep himself from tensing and tried to look as calm as he could be.

The mer growled, " That's all that ya humans are. Selfish and greedy monsters only willing to do something if you get money in return. Do you know how many of our kind is sacrificed, hunted, and killed just so the others can live? Just so you humans can play god and reap what we mer's sew. "

Sukuna gulped, remembering the auction show he was emailed an invite to since he contributed a large amount of fish to the CEO of the company. It was a disgusting show of wealth. How millionaires and billionaires fought over a small little thing that held a resemblance to the one right in front of him.

The mer wasn't done, but tears of grief started to roll down it's eyes, " How many of our guppies, our children, are pulled from our arms to be sold like live stock?! You are no better! "

Sukuna had enough of this tantrum, " Do not bundle me with those people! I'd never harm a child, even if I am considered a monster by other people. I will not allow it to be done by a fish like you! "

The mer shrunk back, breathing irregular and struggling, like a faint wheeze. It swallowed roughly and looked away. Sukuna rumbled, now over flowing with guilt he felt he should not harbor. Looking back up, he became slightly alarmed at the shallow and wheezy breaths the mer was taking.

Mer's need water, his mind supplied. Sukuna growled, and hackles raising when he caught the mer flinching again. Walking away from the net, he went down below deck on got out a giant glass tank he kept in case he needed to keep a fish alive for more profit.

Taking it up the stairs and on to the deck, he set it down on some secure boxes and grabbed a bucket to start filling it with water. He had to make haste though, or the mer would die from drownin? Suffocation? And all of this work would be for waste.

Once the tank was full and covered from the beating ray of the sun, Sukuna walked over to the leaver controlling the hook and rotated it counter clockwise. He watched as the machine lowered the net onto the deck and he let go of the leaver. Once the machine stopped, he stepped up to the net and untied it.

Being this up close and personal to the mer, he watched as the sun made the scales look iridescent. Slipping his arms underneath the torso of the fish being, he pulled it out of the other fish and dragged it towards the tank. The mer roused slightly, trying to fruitlessly push Sukuna away. The bigger man scoffed and dropped the mer into the tank.

The reaction was instant, the mer took a deep breath through the large gills covering it's side and it slumped against the rim of the glass tank. Sukuna watched, looking at the mer's tail that could he classified as art in itself. It was beautiful, though he would never admit it. The thin tarp Sukuna draped over some boxes didn't stop the light from the sun bouncing off the glittering scales.

Sukuna's gaze went back up to the mer's face, startling to see the mer was also looking at him. It's hair fell in it's face, blocking out most of it. It puffed, blowing some of the strands out of it's eyes to get a better look.

Sukuna hated the way his chest constricted at the show. The mer raised a webbed hand, and Sukuna slowly took it and shook it. He made a face when he pulled it back and fake gagged at the slimy feeling left on his skin. The thing laughed at his disgust and shook it's head, getting water everywhere.

It smirked, " The name's _____ _____. What's yours, blubber man? "

Sukuna sneered at the nickname, " That's not my name. It'd Sukuna Ryoumen, nothing else. "

The mer smirked, " Well now I gotta call you that every time I address ya. "

Sukuna growled, " Don't you dare. " The glint in the fish's eyes didn't quell any of the building dread that sat in the bottom of his stomach. He really debated on if he should sell the fish or not.

❃.✮:▹»»——⍟——««◃:✮.❃

#anime headcanons #jjk x male reader #ryōmen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #x male reader #male character #mermaid male reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x male reader #tw blood #tw gore #tw fishing #tw harmful endangerment #alternate universe

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 4 years

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Dream SMP Recap (February 24/2021) - “Mine-opoly”

Ponk and Sam have a date, Phil and Ranboo get into some heated bargaining with Sam for a get out of jail free card, and Tubbo and Ranboo get the idea to start a rival hotel across the street from Tommy’s:

The beginnings of Bee ‘n’ Boo!

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VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tubbo

Philza

Skeppy

Awesamdude

Hannah Rose

Captain Puffy

Ranboo

---

- Ponk wants to make progress on the Oogway Shrine.

- After a dono asks about it, he says that he’s known Bad and Ant for a long time, and they would never sacrifice him to the Egg! So he decides that he is pro-Egg and not pro-Omelette.

- Ponk walks out onto the class over L’manhole and does a little bit of improvised lore, giving a speech:

Ponk: “Civilization...is just a brutal cycle of destruction and corruption, chat. You see, the only man who could run a civilization, died fighting for a civilization that he took under his wing. I’m sure he didn’t want to, chat, I’m sure he didn’t want to, y’know? But he did...and he lays rest over there.”

(He gestures to Schlatt’s Grave)

“Chat, that’s not the point. Think about this, chat, think about this...what happens after the Egg, huh? ...Sure, the Egg could be a common enemy. Or, a common friend. But when it’s gone, for...things never stay the same, things aren’t always the same forever, chat. Nothing lasts forever, okay? Out of corruption, friendship, you know what is born? ...New civilizations. And you know what happens in civilizations? Conflict, chat.”

“What is going on, huh? The cycle will repeat itself. I’m sure Dream will get out of prison one day. I’m sure Tommy might not do something, who knows, chat? ...Maybe, one day, this conflict will get so large...that we’re pushed out of this land, and into a new one.”

- He then goes to continue work on the Oogway Shrine.

- Ponk also talks with Sam for a bit. He asks about whether the Badlands has a citizenship test, or if he could just marry and get a greencard.

- Ponk shows Sam what he’s been working on.

- Sam and Ponk head to the Egg. Ponk asks if Sam has a hoe on him and says he needs Sam to collect a sample. Sam says he doesn’t want to, throwing Ponk the hoe. Ponk insists that it has to be Sam.

- They walk and talk. Ponk tells that Sam’s two prison guards put Ponk in the obsidian box, that they forgot about him there.

- Ponk and Sam exit the room. Ponk mentions that he took Fran for a walk. They continue to walk around and chat. Sam puts in a bunch of new names in the Prank Wars station.

- Ponk asks, doesn’t it upset Sam what Bad and Ant are doing with the Egg? Sam says he doesn’t love it, but he’ll let them do what they’re doing for now.

- They come back to the heart area and Sam runs to his house to get some things.

- Sam comes back with some pumpkin pie, cakes and a poppy for Ponk. He also brought drinks and the promise fish.

- Sam then gives Ponk his own trident!

- Sam leaves after that. Ponk reminds chat that it’s only the first date, and he has to be more smooth.

- Foolish continues work on HBomb’s savannah mansion.

- Phil works on home renovations.

- Awesamdude asks Phil if he’d take diamonds in return for iron. Phil has 22 iron blocks, but doesn’t need or want diamonds. Sam asks what Phil would want.

- Phil asks for access to the prison or plans, but all these requests are denied. Maybe a get out of jail free card? Sam thinks a bit, but ultimately decides no.

- Ranboo joins and tells Phil he has five stacks of iron blocks. Phil proposes the five stacks for the get out of jail free card. Call it “Mineopoly.” Sam is open to the idea, but wouldn’t have a get out of jail free card for any type of offense, necessarily.

- Ranboo worries about getting nothing out of this and Phil drops the offer to two stacks instead for his sake. Sam is still open to the deal, but worries about what the card would be used for, as Phil likes anarchy and might use it to ask for Dream to be let out.

- Phil says he won’t use it for Dream. Sam says he might have another deal, involving something he’s building that Phil might like to use: a massive creeper farm.

- Phil passes on the offer. He’s got withers. He makes the same offer from before again.

- Ranboo banters with Sam about the sandstone penis. Sam rejects the deal.

- Phil proposes a get out of free card for a non-main cell and a deal for three stacks. Sam says he could do it for five stacks. Phil says no.

- Sam then asks Ranboo. He could build Ranboo a memory machine in exchange for the iron. Ranboo says no, and asks why Sam would think he has the iron. Sam points out that Phil and Ranboo live together.

- Ranboo is insulted at the idea of stealing from Phil. Sam suggests he steal and just not write it down so that he doesn’t feel bad. Ranboo says he’d rather kill Sam than steal from Phil.

- Ranboo and Sam continue sassing each other and it gets a little heated.

Sam: If I’m old Philz is a geezer

Phil: I am wise beyond my years

Phil: Centuries are mere childsplay for me

Phil: I’ve seen many like you fall

Phil: You will not be the last

Sam: What was it like

Sam: Seeing everyone you loved die

Sam: Slowly as time moved on

Phil: Painful

Sam: I feel for you then

Phil: But not as painful as what I inflicted on their enemies

- Wilbur starts doing TTS in Phil’s stream. Oh no.

Sam: Ranboo I have just realized something

Ranboo: Yes

Sam: Ranboo agreed everyone he has ever loved is dead

Sam: Which means he does not love any of you

Sam: Live with that.

Ranboo: I know that

- Phil keeps working on his home renovations and deals with his chat (started by Wilbur, of course) requesting chippy money.

- Ranboo and Tubbo work on getting the Bane o’ Bees back, but after seeing Tommy’s hotel, Tubbo gets the idea to make a rival hotel across the path.

- Phil’s murderous rampage against rabbits continues.

- Ranboo and Tubbo lay the scaffolding foundations for the hotel, which they decide to call Bee ‘n’ Boo!

- Skeppy and Badboyhalo continue to work on Big Daddy Island together, working on their tiny little vacation house.

- Sam does some grinding while watching Mediashares.

- Ranboo later continues to gather resources for the hotel.

- Puffy finds out about Ranboo and Tubbo’s hotel plans and decides she wants to join in with a hotel of her own! But she then decides to change plans to a fast food restaurant instead, laying the foundations for a McPuffy’s on the Prime Path near the two hotels.

- Puffy completes the glass covering over the ruins of L’manburg

- She puts a bunch of furnaces on top of Bad and Skeppy’s house

- She gets rid of the crafting table house and adds the tables to the furnace monstrosity

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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xhanisai · 3 years

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Confront the boundary line of good and evil in my heart

AO3 / FFN

Summary:

It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!'

~(x)~ . . . Tick. Tock. "I'm so sorry Chat Noir! I didn't mean to- I just- I just completely broke down and she was right there and I needed someone-" "It's okay, Bug. I understand, don't apologise," Tick. Tock. "It's not okay at all! You've wanted to know for so long, so patiently and I have always said no- and then look at me now! A hypocrite! This is probably a huge sucker-punch for you and I hate that I've always kept on hurting you back then but now, this takes the cake-" "N-No, I'm fine, honest...really. What matters is your happiness and wellbeing-" "But what about you!?" "..." Tick- "...Kid, talk to me, please. The way you're staring out into space is scaring me." The subdued, raspy voice belonging to the ancient being of destruction went unheard. The boy in question continued to observe the empty space in front, sitting on top of his bed with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms folded in front, hiding the lower half of his face. If one were to enter the room, they would instantly freeze from the glower of the boy's fiery emerald greens that were begging to pool with unshed tears and the aura of his stone-cold demeanour. From the waft of his internal turmoil, even a blind person would be able to pick up that he was currently the host of bad luck. "...Adrien...I want to help, I want to understand, so talk to me!" Once again, Plagg was left ignored, leaving him no choice but to float back down to his pillow and direct his pleading kitten eyes at the blonde, his tiny heart shattered from the state of his chosen. Alas, even he was helpless, his feline ears and whiskers drooping with sorrow. 'But you won't understand. You never did and you never will. No one will ever understand.' Adrien didn't even flinch, didn't even bat an eye. He was a statue of apathy and aloofness; though deep down inside, he was a maelstrom of agonising pain. Oh, so much pain. It was excruciating. He wanted to suit up and claw through the rooves of Paris whilst screaming in anguish. He wanted to find every billboard that had his face on it and tear through it all like paper. He wanted to shred and pulverise his useless, traitorous heart along with its despicable feelings and emotions. But most importantly, he wanted to rip the magical ring off his finger and throw it into La Seine with all his might and then cry for the rest of eternity. And he hates that he feels that way. Absolutely, ridiculously, hates that he feels betrayed. Self-loathing and disgust have taken over his body like a puppet and rendered him completely useless, like a toy forgotten at the bottom of the box, never to see the light of day ever again. The feeling of uselessness and pure shame replaced the blood running through his veins and numbed him to the point where he was equivalent to a powerless machine. He felt his throbbing heart fall deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!' The younger, softer, naive part of himself which was usually tucked away within the dark, hidden crevices of his heart, screamed as if the rest of humanity's lives depended on it. It was taking Adrien everything to keep him out. 'Is it too much to ask for only one constant in my life? Is it too much to ask for one thing to remain the same? Is it too much for anyone to stop keeping me at arm's length!?' . It is. . It is. . Deep down inside, below the platinum chains and iron bars of solid, concrete denial, he always knew that Ladybug never considered him as close as he did with her. And why should she? Just because he performed an act of common, proper human decency and helped an old man get his walking stick back? Just because he was gifted with the power to destroy anything he touches in order to save the day? Just because he knew how to fight possessed villains alongside her? Just because he's in love with her? . "I'm literally the worst." Adrien finally spoke out loud ever since he returned from...that patrol many hours ago. Despite his words, his soul couldn't help but weep and pray that it was all one huge, cruel nightmare. A twisted, sick joke that whatever deities out there have concocted up just for him. Anything! Yet, this was his reality. "I disagree." The boy snapped his gaze towards the kwami, his brows furrowing for elaboration on the little God's part. "I may not be human but I do have feelings and I can empathise. I've existed from the beginning of time and I've witnessed many, many things in my lifetime." Plagg then floated towards him, settling on Adrien's arm so that he was face to face. "You're not in the wrong here, kid. It's okay to feel like this-" "No, it's not!" Adrien's sudden outburst had the kwami shoot away in surprise, the boy instantly turning baffled at his own harsh reaction and then visibly paling even further. He caught sight of his own reflection on a nearby mirror, cringing at the monstrous mess that looked back. With a frustrated sigh, he leapt off the bed, solemnly treading towards his windows, fingers digging into his upper arms as if he was hugging himself. . The luminous moon that shone through the night sky, what was once a beacon of freedom in the past, never looked so unappealing to the distraught hero. His usually glittering eyes were vacant, devoid of any joy and hope whilst his lips were etched in a permanent frown. How many fake smiles and empty words of wisdom did he force out in front of his Lady earlier on? He's lost count. And how many more times will he have to keep doing that, knowing that there will always be another person out that there that Ladybug trusts more than she'll ever trust him? . "I stand by with what I said," Plagg quipped once more, his host quietly surprised with how the little God managed to get so close without him realising. "The two of you have been thrust into a messy situation with very little guidance and a whole bunch of rules which only complicated it further." He then directed his eyes from the moon to the boy. "Yes, I agree that Ladybug's decision in confiding with someone about her identity was a good idea, but as a result of that, it's brought you so much pain. You are not the worst and it's okay to cry it out. It's okay to tell her how you really feel." He placed one of his tiny hands on Adrien's cheek, ears and whiskers still weighed with melancholy as the boy allowed his eyes to prick with tears. One drop. Two drops. Three drops. Four. "It shouldn't hurt- I...I shouldn't be so selfish! Even if she never told me, I was able to tell that she wasn't able to handle her civilian life any longer, especially after becoming the Guardian- I'm supposed to protect her and be by her side! Not throw a tantrum like a three-year-old just because I'm not the one she decided to tell about her secret identity! And then adding my own stupid feelings and insecurities to her plate? I'll be a burden!" The dam was broken and the overwhelming feelings within Adrien cascaded like a tsunami. "You have plenty on your plate as well-" "But I'm used to it, she isn't. I was born and raised to deal with these kinds of things anyway so it's a no brainer for me to shut up and accept it all with a smile-" He paused abruptly, a wet gasp escaping his throat as he leaned against the glass for support when even more realisation sunk in. 'I have been dealing with so many responsibilities ever since I was born...and that puts us on the same boat...so why couldn't she have confided with me then?' Adrien dropped to his knees, fingernails scraping against his scalp as he tried to fight back against those negative thoughts and questions. 'Why am I never good enough? Not for Maman, not for Père and now...not for Ladybug...?' 'Why am I even here then?'

"Adrien...you don't need to put a mask on when you're with me. Cry it all out. I'm not gonna sit by and watch you destroy yourself from inside out because of your inability to address your true feelings. I'm right here, I'll even destroy all the wretched butterflies that dare to come by- so please, let it all out," "I can't! If I do, I'll never be able to go back and nothing will be the same again-" "And if you don't, then things will change for the worse and trust me, kid, that is the last thing you need." Finally, Plagg's words unravelled the obstacles that slowed down the flood and Adrien couldn't help but give in. His body shook and a whole new fresh wave of tears pooled down his eyes, teeth biting down on his lip to prevent the sobs from bursting out. . "...It hurts Plagg...it hurts so much! I love her...and I trust her so much but it hurts! I know she trusts me on a level and I know that multiple times she's mentioned that I'm irreplaceable but dammit! Why does it all feel like a lie!? She did the right thing in telling her civilian best friend, she finally has someone to look after herself- but why does it feel so wrong? Why is my heart in so much pain? Why can't I stop crying? If Ladybug won't lean on me, then what am I here for? And if I can't lean on Ladybug...who...who do I have?" . "...I may not be much and I may talk about nothing but cheese...but you'll always have me, kid," "I want to believe you, I want to so badly, Plagg...but I can't. I feel so alone...I've always been alone... ...And I'll always be alone..." . . . A couple of hours ago, just shy under midnight on a lone, hidden rooftop, if a curious civilian looked up, they would have seen Ladybug and Chat Noir locked in an embrace. However, what they would have noticed first was the absolutely broken, heartwrenching expression Noir wore... ...As if his entire world has fallen apart... . . . ~(x)~ A/N: Just wondering if I should make a sequel and give these two poor cats a happy ending~

#my writing #my fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #ml fanfic #ml spoilers #takes place after gang of secrets #basically a possibility of what could happen when chat finds out that ladybug told her identity to someone else #super angsty #adrien agreste #chat noir #plagg #ladybug

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supercorpkid · 4 years

Text

Sweet 16.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2430.

“Hey! There she is!” Kara opens her arms excitedly when you walk home from school.

“Here I am.” You answer unaware of why she’s so excited. It’s just a normal day.

“Your birthday is in a few days.” She says and you agree with your head. “Are you excited?”

“Sure.” It’s what your mouth says. But what your face says it’s ‘whatever’.

“I see that.” She waits until you’re seated to reach out from the other side of the counter and hold your chin up on her hand. “What’s wrong, little one?”

“Nothing’s wrong, momma.” You shrug. “It’s just a birthday. Just another day.”

“It is absolutely not just another day!” She lets go of your face and makes her way around the counter to reach you. “It is the day that the person I love the most in the universe finally came into my life.” She hugs tight and you smile.

“Mom’s birthday is still a few months away.” You joke and Kara squints her eyes at you.

“I’m serious, baby.” She sits next to you with the biggest smile on her face. “What do you want in your party?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug again. “Can I ask for anything?” She agrees with a nod. “Ok. Then, how about for my party, we don’t have one?”

Kara’s face drops when you say that, and she looks disappointed. You don’t want a party, honestly your birthday will be like every other birthday. Alex, Kelly and Jamie come over, Kara buys all the food in the universe, Lena buys all the presents in the universe, and that’s it. You’re fine with how things are. Besides, who else would you invite to the party anyway? Lillian Luthor? It’s a laughable thought.

“Just us family having dinner is enough.” You reassure her.

“Fine.” She still pouts though. “What do you want as a birthday gift?” Another shrug. “How about that video game you told me about?”

“Nah. Jamie already got it for her birthday and we usually play it together anyway.”

“Ok.” Kara agrees with her head and thinks some more. “A new phone?”

“Mine is fine.”

“A car?” She tries with a chuckle and you laugh too.

“I can fly.” You get up from the stool. “A hug will do. Oh, and maybe I can skip school?”

“That’s it? As your birthday present you want me to let you skip class?”

“No. I want you to convince mom to let me skip class.” You raise your eyebrows a couple of times at her and she agrees with her head. You kiss her cheek. “Don’t stress about it. Really. It’s just another day.”

You go to your room and lay in bed thinking about this ‘just another day’. You remember you were once so excited about birthdays. As a kid you would get up before your moms, run to their bedroom, climb on their bed and wake them up yelling ‘it’s my birthday!’. You could never wait until later to open all your presents (Lena would always save the best one for the party), and you would annoyingly tell every single person you saw that it was your day. Now the only thing you want is sleep until late and maybe go to your lab alone.

You were so anxious for leaving the whole ‘birthday conversation’, you didn’t eat and you’re starving. So, you wait a little until you see Kara is not in the kitchen anymore and you sneak there.

“Kara. What’s-?” You hear Lena’s voice from the living room. You’re not using your super hearing, they’re just close enough. “What’s all this?”

“Look at her, Lena.” You use your x-ray vision and you see a bunch of photo albums on the table. “Look at this cute little bean, all excited about her birthday.”

“Yeah, God. She loves it so much.” Lena agrees, grabbing one of the albums to look at it.

“Loved it.” Kara corrects her with a sigh. “She just told me she doesn’t want a party, and as a birthday gift she wants to not have to go to school.”

“What? Why? Do you think there is something going on at school?” Lena asks and you sit closer to hear their conversation without them seeing you. Honestly, you’re so good at eavesdropping you don’t even need powers for that.

“I don’t know. I think she just doesn't want to think about this day, you know?” Kara sighs and holds one of your pictures up. “I get it though. I mean, just look at this little smooch. Rao, she’s so big now. She is doing great with her powers; she has her own lab.”

“Yeah. She is smart, independent, strong, caring…” Lena completes the thought and you smile to yourself.

“Soon enough she’ll go to college and like…” You can hear Kara choking a little and you know she’s crying. “She won’t need me anymore. And I’ll be here all alone.”

“Why, thank you, honey.” Lena says ironically.

“Alone with you.” Kara adds trying to make her feel better.

“Oh yeah, that’s a lot better.” Lena breathes deep and wipes Kara’s tears. “Let’s not think about this now, ok? Let’s think about what we can do to make her enjoy her birthday like she used to.”

“I don’t want to push her into this. If she’s not feeling it, maybe we should let it be.” Kara closes one of the albums. “If not going to school and a family dinner is all she wants…”

“Wait, what? You can’t be serious. You really don’t want to throw her a party? You? Of all people?” Lena asks, surprised.

“Don’t look so shocked.” Kara crosses her arms. “If she wants to pretend that she’s not getting older, I’m fine with that. We can go on pretending she’s still 15 for years, that way she will never leave me.”

“Kara, this is not about you.” Lena does her whole ‘business woman’ pose. Crossed legs, fingers intertwined placed perfectly on top of her knee and serious expression. “Our daughter is incredible, and she can’t get stuck here because we’re unable to let her go. She deserves to see and save the world. She deserves to create incredible things and make the world better. We can’t get in the way of that.”

“I know, but…” Kara is still crying. “She is my baby. And I love her so much, and I want to be around her all the time. Maybe… Maybe we could build a time machine and relive her childhood all over again?”

“I don’t think you know how time machines work.”

“Fine. Then maybe I could go to college with her. You know, I’ll sign up for some classes and…”

“Yeah right, because that’s exactly what she will want. Go to college with her momma.” Lena hugs her and gets close to her ear. “I can think of a few things we could do to have fun when she goes off to college.”

Ew. No. You get up from where you’re sitting and grab a bag of chips and go back to your bedroom. This just turned R18+ super fast, you don’t want and shouldn’t listen anymore.

Your birthday came along really fast. None of your moms mentioned anything about a party, and Kara only said that your family was coming for dinner, so apparently, they decided to respect your wishes.

“It’s your birthday!” Kara walks in your room early in the morning, you wake up with a smile. She throws confetti in your face and you laugh. “Happy birthday, not-so little one.”

“Still little, momma.” She jumps in bed next to you and hugs you. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, babygirl.” Lena walks in the room and you see she has a box on her hands. “No peeking!”

“Uh, is that my present?” You raise one eyebrow and she agrees with her head.

“Guess what it is.” Kara says next to you and you shrug.

“Donuts?” You ask with a smile, but they shake their heads in denial at the same time. “Birthday cake?” Another no with their heads. “Cupcakes?”

“It’s not food.” Lena answers and comes next to you.

“Oh, then you guys probably didn’t get me what I wanted.” You joke and Kara laughs next to you. “Unless is a dog.”

“Definitely not a dog.” Lena gives you the box and you hug her to say thank you. She kisses your forehead. “I hope you like it, baby.”

“Cool, thanks mom.” You smile at Lena and then turn to Kara. “Now for your birthday gift to me. Did you do it? Did you talk to her?”

“Yes, kid. You don’t have to go to school today.” Kara agrees with her head and you smile.

“Well, thanks for the gifts. Now I’m going back to sleep, because I don’t have to wake up early today. I love you both. Happy birthday to me, yay!” You say not excitedly and put the blanket over your head, so they can take the hint and leave you to go back to sleep.

You wake up hours later and you’re starving. You joked about donuts and birthday cake, but you kind of wish they actually bought those. You hear the doorbell and Lena yells it’s for you, so you get out of your pajamas in a flash and run to the front door.

“Grandmother?” Your eyes grow bigger and you look at your mom next to you, still holding the door open.

“Granddaughter.” She answers with a tiny smile. “Do you mind if we speak out here for a minute?”

You look at Lena for permission. She gives you a little nod, and you take that as incentive. So you go out the door, and Lena closes it, to give you guys some more privacy.

“I just came by to wish you a happy birthday. It’s a very important age.” Lillian says and you smile.

“It’s just another year.” You shrug and she shakes her head.

“I suppose.” She clears her throat and you see she has something in her hands, and it’s carefully wrapped in a red and blue paper. “I wouldn’t know what’s important for a kid, anyhow.” She takes a deep breath. “I hope you enjoy it.”

She hands you the box and you so desperately want to lower your glasses to make sure it’s not a kryptonite bomb inside, but you refrain from doing so. You don’t want to seem impolite. You unwrap the paper and see a video game console, also red and blue. You smile.

“I remembered you told me you made one videogame and, well, the guy at the store told me this one sells well with kids.” She says and you beam at her. You almost feel like hugging her, but you don’t want to impose, so the smile will have to do.

“Thank you. It’s amazing, really.” She agrees with her head, looking proud of herself.

“A book would be better, but I don’t think you can get any smarter.”

“I could. But I would be unbearable.” You laugh and she smiles lightly. Kara lands on the doorstep at the moment.

“Lillian.” Kara says as a hello. Lillian turns back to her, adjusting the clothes on her body, looking nervous.

“Supergirl.” She replies, bitterly. Then turns back at you. “Well, happy birthday.” She mentions to leave, but before she tilts her head. “Granddaughter.”

“Thanks.” You salute her off. “Grandmother.”

Lillian makes her way to the black car parked in front of the driveway. Kara hugs you sideways and you get inside the house. You see her looking at the console on your hands.

“Birthday present.” You smile showing it to her.

“The one you wanted.” She stares at it for a while. Then agrees with her head, like she had just checked for bombs and it’s safe.

“Guess who just landed in the backyard?” Lena asks and you furrow your brows.

“COUSIN!” Superboy walks in all dressed in his stupid super hero clothes and you toss the video game to Kara and run to hug him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask surprise and stop smiling for a second. “Oh no, what have you done?”

Everyone laughs, well aware of his reputation, Conner also laughs and messes with your hair.

“It’s your birthday, lab rat! You actually think I would miss that?” He smiles and whispers in your ear. “I also know your moms buy the most delicious food for this day.”

“It’s true!” Kara agrees from the other side, proving there’s no way you can keep a secret from her. “I just went to Italy and picked up all of her favorites. Everyone else is already on their way, so we’ll eat in a while.”

“Your mom’s the best.” Conner says, making Kara smile, very proud of herself.

“Your uncle is also the best.” You hear behind you and you look at Superman standing on the backyard door with a smile.

“Kal!” You run to him and hug him tightly. You haven’t seen him in such a long time. Kara shows up behind you.

“Hey Kal.” You let go of him and Kara hugs him. You look at Conner and you both go to the living room, and let the grown-ups talk. You show Conner your new video game and you both play with it until the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it.” You run to the door and see aunt Alex, aunt Kelly, Jamie and Eliza on the other side. “GRAMM!”

“Hi sweetheart.” Eliza smiles and kisses the top of your head. She looks at your surprised face. “What? You thought I wouldn’t come to your birthday?” You’re so happy. You can’t believe she left Midvale just to see you. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

“Thanks Gramm.” You say and she goes inside.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” Aunt Alex hugs you and your smile just grows bigger and bigger.

“Happy birthday, little Danvers.” Jamie hugs you and whispers in your ear. “If you leave me alone in school again, I’ll murder you.”

Aunt Kelly also wishes you happy birthday and you all go inside the house. You’re almost back in the living room when the doorbell rings again, and Nia and Brainy come inside too.

When you finally reach the living room, you see three shadows running around and you smile. Soon, the whole place is ready. There are balloons, a happy birthday banner, and the biggest birthday cake you’ve ever seen. You thought you had no one to invite to your party, but now looking at the full house, you smile to yourself. Your whole family is here. And they are amazing.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #kara x lena #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #kara x reader #lena x reader #supercorp daughter #reader insert

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mrhyde-mrseek · 3 years

Text

The Horsepeople of the Apocalypse as various things my friends have said

•Pollution- *reaching for metal nut on stage* “I want this nut.”

•Pollution- *side kicks leg up to the extreme*

Famine- *throws goldfish at them but misses*

Famine- *throws goldfish at War’s boobs*

Goldfish- *goes down her shirt*

War- “I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK IT WENT!”

•Famine- “I’ll have an entire vending machine of peace tea—“ *blanks*

•Famine “Chalky broke.”

Pollution- “I always break.”

Pollution- *dies*

War- “. . . This happens more than you think.”

•Death- *compares “Happy Birthday” to a funeral dirge*

•War- *angrily eats a granola bar because she hates peanuts*

•Pollution- *does a pirouette in the squeakiest damn shoes ever heard on this side of the Atlantic*

•Pollution- *picks up weird little keychain backstage and clicks a button*

Pollution- *figures out it’s a flashlight and gasps*

Pollution- *shines flashlight directly in their eyes*

•War- “I’ll make magic with you.”

Famine- *from backstage* “STOP!”

Pollution- *also backstage* “NO!”

•Famine- “And palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss.”

Famine *holds up hands to touch palms*

War *high fives him*

•Pollution- *running* “WE NEED THE STAGE!”

Pollution- *jumps onto stage and rolls across*

•War- *grappling with Pollution* “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Famine- “Says the one in the fight!”

•Pollution- *sniffs deodorant*

Pollution- *makes a “confirmation face”*

•Famine- “Didn’t you spill a puddle?”

Pollution- “Did I?”

•Pollution- *shows grimy hands to Famine after hiding in the closet during Sardines, AKA the one place nobody could fit with them*

Famine- *loud gasp*

•War- “I don’t like you!”

Pollution- “Love you too!”

War- “NO.”

•Death- *gives Pollution an Amazon order that came in the mail for them

Pollution- “WAIT!”

Pollution- *turns empty Amazon bag inside out and wears it as a hat*

•War- “I feel very mentally unstable today.”

Death- “Good to know. We’ll make sure to hide the knives.”

•War- “OPEN YOUR KNEES!”

•Famine- “I love your hair. What colors did your hair dresser experiment with to get that color?”

•War- “ONE YEAR BITCHAVERSARY!”

Pollution- “With more glitter courtesy of yours truly✨”

•Pollution- “Oh, wait, unzip your shirt and show her!”

War- “. . . What.”

•Pollution- “I’m just trying to use my purple marker man why are you yelling at me?”

•Pollution- “How many things have I broken this year?”

•War- *yelling* “I AM IN HONORS ELA AND I JUST TRIED TO SPELL “CAT” WITH A K.”

•Pollution- “I want a psychic worm.”

•Famine- “Get on my breakfast level.”

•War- *from off* “IT’S SIX-FIFTY-FIVE AND WE’RE TALKING ABOUT PRIME RIB!”

•War- “Bark bitch.”

•Famine- “I don’t want to have any more chemicals in my body.”

Pollution- “Well, I’m fine with chemicals in my body.”

•Pollution- “Different types of paper have different tastes and textbook paper is the best!”

•War- “I’M AN AMP!”

•War- *chugs the last two drops of fancy apple juice from the glass bottle while holding a plastic champagne glass*

•Pollution- “It’s like, woah! There are children here! And you’re one of them!”

•War- “I have a solution that doesn’t involve homicide. This time.”

•Famine- “Beebeequé.”

•Death- “Grey is light dark.”

•Famine- “Birish.”

•Famine, to Pollution- “Can you figure out a way to get another box on top of that pile to make it taller? The only caveat is that you can’t die.”

•War- “What if we just take a shovel and—“ *mimes smacking a shovel against the side of the very tall box tower*

•Famine- “If you have a bunch of boxes, then . . . what are you supposed to do with your life?“

War- “If you have a bunch of boxes and Chalky, then what else are you supposed to do?”

•Famine- “You’re white, you’re supposed to like mac and cheese!”

•War- “Be aggressive!”

Pollution- *starts an impromptu “be aggressive” cheer*

•Famine and War- *do back-and-forth “Bad Blood” chorus fighting*

Pollution- *starts accidentally chanting the “be aggressive” cheer*

•War- *speaker crackles* “IT’S SPEAKING TO ME!”

•War- *manhandles Pollution out of her seat*

•Famine- *about Starburst jellybeans* “I almost said these taste like Starburst.”

•War- *throws granola bar at Famine*

Famine- *picks it up and starts eating it*

•War- *throws shoe wildly at Pollution*

Shoe- *hits Pollution square in the head*

•Pollution- *hides from War behind the piano*

War- *throws shoe at the piano*

•Pollution- “She broke.”

Famine- *not looking up* “That’s sad.”

Pollution- *waves abnormally long French fry in his face* “Look.”

Famine- “Ma’am—“

•Death- “Well, have fun drinking your dragons.”

•War- “I’m smarter than the rug.”

•War, intending to say titty- “The sun is a tooty.”

•War- “Had another Ninja Warrior competition. I wiped out. My friend did it better, he faceplanted in the mat and stayed there for five seconds.”

•Famine- “I swear to god, if you call Einstein hot, I’m moving to another table.”

•Pollution- *walks on stage carrying a dustpan and dumps it into the trash bin*

Famine- “What was that from?”

Pollution- “The floor.”

War- “THEY JUST DUMPED SAWDUST ON ME!”

•Pollution- *struggles to make a heart out of their hands while staring at them with an expression of both confusion and infinite concentration*

•Pollution, in the other room, using body spray- *starts coughing like a cat regurgitating a hairball*

Pollution, as nonchalantly as possible- “It got in my mouth.”

•War- *is imitating Famine’s movements as he speaks*

Famine- *glances behind him*

War- *acts innocent*

Famine- *sighs wearily*

•Death- “Do you have anything?”

Famine- “I have a piece of bread.”

•Pollution- “I did, in fact, walk two miles in crocs!”

•War- “It’s been, like, two seconds and you’re already on the floor.”

Pollution- “Shut it! I’m tired!”

•Famine- “Next period you’re going to walk into health and sit on the floor.”

Pollution- “I am! The floor’s comfortable!”

Famine- “You’ve said this, I don’t doubt you.”

•Pollution- *runs down the stairs*

Famine- “Did you fall?”

Pollution- “No! Why do you always think I fall?”

Famine- “Because you sounded like a velociraptor going down those stairs!”

•War- *points to Famine* “AAAH! I love it!”

Famine- “. . . I just put shoes on.”

War-

War- “Well, it wasn’t noticeable until you put shoes on!”

•Pollution- *struggles to open a plastic fork wrapper*

Famine- “That was the most complicated opening of a fork I’ve ever seen.”

•Everyone but Death- *make a mad dash for Frostys Death brought*

•War- “This is not salad. It is chicken and lettuce.”

Famine- “Isn’t that just salad?”

•Famine- “Okay ixnay on the aturdaysay.”

War- “Ma’am what.”

•Death- “I think you’ve lost your breathing privileges.”

•Famine- *is trying to explain where Skippy’s is*

Pollution- *interrupts by inhaling and choking on air*

•War- “Is anyone else worried about Vera? She’s never been this high on Valium before.”

Pollution- *falls out of their chair laughing*

War- “Also Death because they’re not here.”

•Famine- “Anyone want coins?”

Pollution- *holds out hand*

Famine- “Anyone but you.”

•Famine- “It’s not even a dollar, what are you going to do with seventy-five cents?”

Pollution- “Throw it in the air.”

Famine- “It’s going to hit someone.”

Pollution- “Yeah, you.”

•Pollution- “I was on the floor.”

War, picking lint and dust off of the back of their motorcycle jacket- “You are not the human mop.”

•War- “I slapped you, like, once. . . .”

•Famine- “War you are not from India! You are from Español!”

•War- “Wait, I want to point fake guns at people!”

•Famine- *finally notices that War and Pollution are pointing finger guns at each other behind him* “What on Earth—“

•Pollution- *extremely muffled, holding an apple with their teeth* “I’ll do it!”

Pollution- *still with the apple in their mouth* “Ow.”

•War- *watching a bootleg clip of “Whipped into Shape” with the rest of the Horsepeople* “Okay. Can she whip me into shape?”

•Pollution- *blows out a cake candle by air-karate-chopping at it while Death tries to get them to stop*

•War- *sits on floor to do her work while charging her computer*

Famine- “You can sit at a desk.”

War- “Nah, I’m good. I like the floor.”

•Pollution- *happy kicks*

Pollution- *almost kicks Death*

•Famine, baffled, trying to figure out why half of the folders have suddenly disappeared from the shelf- “Is anyone just stealing folders for fun?”

•Pollution- “You know a crop top? The thing you put food in?”

Famine- “Do you mean crock pot?”

Pollution-

War- “I thought you said ‘crop top.’”

Famine- “THEY DID!”

Pollution- *dies*

•War- “Do you put food in a crop top?”

•Pollution- “Waman. I’m a waman.”

Pollution- “I’m not even a woman.”

•Famine- “Are you stable?”

War- *nods*

Pollution- *shakes their head vigorously*

•Famine- “The rice that you haven’t touched—it looks dead. It’s an inanimate object and it looks dead.”

•Famine- *points to sad steak and cheese taco-enchilada-quesadilla-thing* “Fine cuisine.”

•War- *aggressively* “I love my chains.”

•Pollution- *much louder and much more high-pitched than they intended* “BEEP!”

•War- *sucks grape into mouth*

Pollution- *flinches for absolutely no reason*

•War- “GRONK YOU DEAF BASTARD I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

•Pollution- *burns and stains a STAINLESS STEEL POT TRYING TO MAKE TEA*

•War- “Maybe we can beat each other up!”

•Pollution- *collapses onto floor and curls into a ball because it’s 7:12 in the morning and they don’t want to go to math*

•Famine- *holds out pencil he found on the floor* “Do you want a pencil?”

Pollution- “Heh!”

•War, to Pollution- “You frickin’ drippy man!”

•Pollution- *takes out a bottle of Seltzer*

Famine- *leaves to use the bathroom*

Pollution- *opens bottle*

Seltzer- *sprays everywhere wHEN THEY HADN’T EVEN SHAKEN IT AT ALL*

Famine- *returns three minutes later to see War and Pollution trying frantically to clean up the mess and salvage the project they were all working on together*

•Pollution- *arrives with a present wrapped in an unholy amount of tape*

Famine- “I pity whoever that’s for.”

Pollution- *is trying not to laugh*

Famine-

Famine- “It’s me, isn’t it?”

•War- “Who uses electrical tape to wrap a present?!”

•Pollution- “I’M A GENIUS!”

Pollution- “Mwrp!”

Pollution- *throws balled-up tissue paper*

•Famine- *does everything he can to avoid touching the glitter on his gift bag*

•Pollution- *laughs so hard they faceplant in a chair with a loud thunk while still standing*

•War- *sings along to “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer”*

#good omens #pollution good omens #war good omens #famine good omens #death good omens #the four horsepeople of the apocalypse #my friends

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gaycrouton · 4 years

Text

Fox Mulder’s Senior Thesis

Scully reads Mulder's thesis to get even since he read hers, but she wasn't expecting just how much autobiographical insight she would gain into her new partner.

5k - MSR

Ao3 Link Here

Scully felt the indignant burn of embarrassment on her cheeks every time she thought about those words coming out of Mulder's mouth. "Einstein's Twin Paradox, A New Interpretation. Dana Scully Senior Thesis. Now that's a credential, rewriting Einstein." Worst of all, he said he'd actually read it. She didn't know him well enough to be able to tell if he truly liked it, but regardless, the fact he'd looked at it embarrassed her. She was a certified medical doctor, she'd written plenty of articles she was genuinely proud of over the years, yet Mulder had chosen to read her undergraduate thesis from the University of Maryland. She was only 22 when she wrote it, and she was pretty sure coffee and sleep deprivation contributed more to the final product than she did.

When she got home after that first day of work, the words still danced around her head "I read it. I liked it." Out of curiosity, she went through some old boxes to find a copy she knew she'd hidden away with a bunch of other college knicknacks, and just as she'd expected, it was full of errors and the misplaced arrogance of youth. The knowledge that Mulder had read it and formed an impression of her based on these old musings made her uncomfortable, and an irrational part of her wished she could go back in time and make it better.

It wasn't like it was an invasion of privacy, but to read her writing from years ago felt like a level of intimacy she wasn't ready to share with a near-stranger.

It had been a few months since he'd mentioned it, and they'd been working together just fine, but the thought that he'd seen this small side of her, Dana-the-co-ed who wanted to impress her professor so badly that she tried to rewrite Einstein, nagged at the back of her mind. Did he read her vulnerability, the way her words begged for her professor's praise? Could he read the pride she'd felt at the time for having taken on something so advantageous? Did he ever consider how forward that was, how off-putting to have one's thesis dug up from the grave?

But she knew that was exactly why he'd done it. Mulder wanted to make her uncomfortable. Not her exactly, but the new partner assigned to invade his space. She wasn't the profiler, but she knew he did it as a defense mechanism. Mulder had done it in front of her a few times now: if he acted as spooky as people thought he was, they would make fun of the caricature of himself he was playing, not the real, vulnerable Mulder.

Scully wondered if the thesis had any part in endearing herself to him, or did he look at it through a lens of judgement, finding every flaw and analyzing what he'd use to tease the new partner coming down to see him.

"I read it. I liked it."

It was one of the many times she'd started to spiral while thinking of how he thought of her. The spirals were usually brought upon anytime he ditched her during a case or when he investigated something on his own. A nagging feeling would grow in her abdomen that asked "Why doesn't he trust me fully?" And she would think back to that embarrassing insight he had into her. A few times she considered sending some of her other work, some of what she was more proud of to him, before ultimately realizing that he'd probably seen the titles and gone with the one that intrigued him most. The one he was probably most ready to laugh at, her brain would supplement.

Then she decided it would only be fair to read his.

She'd read his monograph on serial killers and the occult as part of her profiling training at the academy, but she knew there was probably an embarrassing thesis floating out there somewhere.

After the seed of an idea was planted in her mind, the roots started to overgrow all rational thought. She was fueled by a curiosity of what Oxford educated psychologist Fox Mulder sounded like in his early twenties. He was a bit arrogant now, though it wasn't repulsive in him like she found that quality to be in most men, but arrogant nonetheless. She could only imagine what a 22 year-old version of him sounded like.

Scully wondered what that must've been like, what the look on his advisor's face was when he inevitably postulated some intergalactic theory. Or did he choose a more mammalian creature to examine? Perhaps little grey men were too extreme, and he scaled it back to the cultural differences between Bigfoot, the chupacabra, and a yeti.

Luckily for her, she had a friend in the archival department who was able to locate his thesis for her with the payment of a coffee. It was dropped on her desk in an inconspicuous manila envelope, and she was able to sneak it into her purse before Mulder had a chance to notice.

Scully waited until she was home before tearing into it. It was about 60-pages, a nice length for a bachelor's thesis. She'd prepared for the event with a glass of wine and some snacks. A highlighter and some pencils were scattered around her in preparation for her night of learning more about her enigmatic partner. Despite the frivolity of it, she felt her heart thrumming in her chest, excited to meet this Mulder even if she intended to make jokes at his expense tomorrow to his older self.

She smiled to herself as she tried to have a last minute guess at what phenomena he'd focus on before a gasp tore from her lips at the reality.

Shared Grief and Repression: An examination of the psychological long-term impact of parental invalidation regarding familial trauma on childhood development

Fox Mulder - Senior Thesis

Oxford University

May 15th, 1983

Scully felt numb with the implications of this, but she couldn't help her curiosity. She read the entire thing in one night, unable to put it down. She barely knew Mulder well enough to distinguish if there was an autobiographical hurt child ghost-writing these hypotheses or if it was mere speculation, Mulder being desperate to understand himself. For all she knew this could have been a result of Mulder assisting a professor in their own research, the ties to his own past merely coincidental. Somewhere in her soul, she knew that despite her hesitance to admit it, she'd just learned far more about Mulder through this than he had learned about her through her nonsensical ramblings about Einstein.

What she did know, unquestionably, was that she would never tell him. That night she placed his thesis on top of hers, and hid their past selves in a box deep in her closet. She couldn't bring herself to throw his words out, so she would just have to live with them.

She didn't have Mulder's eidetic memory, but lines of his thesis stood out to her with the same clarity in which he'd recited hers. She never called upon them, they just came like a bolt of lightning that left a charred mark in its wake. It was as if she was the scientist observing if his hypotheses were true while Mulder acted as the living case study.

1993

"Adults who lacked comfort in their youth are prone to seek human connection out through other, non-conventional means, (Jenkins, 1945)."

While part of her acknowledged this was Mulder's office, the other part of her knew this was also the official office of the X-Files, of which she was an equal part. She hadn't felt this way since the last time she moved into one of her boyfriend's apartments. A few sweaters left in the closet, food in the fridge that was only for her, messages for her left on the answering machine - things that accumulated slowly until she decided it would be stupid to re-sign the lease at her own place.

That was effectively what she'd done here. She noticed that two women from the financial crimes unit were being forced to share a space, and, being she couldn't remember the last time she was in her own office, she decided to give it to one of them. Now, despite the fact Mulder was the only name on a placard outside and she was still trying to elbow space for herself on the other side of his desk, this was her office now too.

The space heater at their feet was hers, she'd brought a plant that was thriving in the annex of the office, she'd even managed to put a TV Guide clipping about Alf amongst all his other ones to see how long it would take him to notice. Even though those small things made her feel more 'at home,' she still wanted to claim a little more space for herself.

One day she decided to arrive before him, a box of her office supplies in hand, and take over one of the drawers of his desk. Just one - for now.

Scully plopped down in his chair, amazed at how much larger the indent he'd created was than her diminutive frame. With a sigh, she decided he'd probably be less inclined to be irritated if she took one of the bottom drawers. Pulling one out, she had to suppress a gasp of surprise.

She'd caught him reading nudie mags before, claiming they were for the abduction stories in the feedback sections, but this was… a lot.

Snowed in! Plowed out!

Shared Space (And a tight one at that!)

Years of Waiting, Big Explosion!

The titles made her grimace, but they weren't as bad as some she'd seen in her brothers' room growing up. The VHS tapes were lined up in the drawer in alphabetic order and their neon titles stuck out brightly to her. Pausing to listen for the sound of the elevator, she grabbed the one labeled Years of Waiting.

The summary on the back alluded to a couple who'd been in love for years finally consummating their shared attraction. It was surprisingly less crude than she'd anticipated. She picked up the one with space in the title and saw it was about two friends who had to share a room together while on vacation, and after a while, they can't keep their hands off each other.

She felt a furrow in her brow in confusion. These tapes all had similar descriptions to the dimestore paperback romance novels she'd buy from time to time. It seemed the story was just as important as the sex itself. One of them even had a cover of two people cupping the other's face as they leaned in for a kiss. Of course, the photo on the back was a naked sexual position that made her back hurt, but it overall wasn't as crude as she'd anticipated.

Mulder was into softcore, oddly sweet pornography?

She wasn't quite sure what to do with that information before she heard a ding come from down the hall. Scully quickly stuffed the VHS in her hands back in the drawer without looking, and instead moved to the bottom drawer on the other side of the desk. She was relieved to see it was some of his spare clothes and she dumped them on his desk before relocating her stuff into the drawer.

1994

"Children mimic what they see demonstrated in front of them (Smith, 1975). When a traumatic event occurs and parents cope without any outward displays of emotion, the child learns the expectation is that emotions are hidden. A potential development due to this is that the child understands how negatively invalidation felt, so they try to overcompensate when offering comfort to others, appearing unrelenting in their efforts to provide the comfort as the act itself is a comfort for them as well."

She stood there sobbing into his arms until she felt numb, soothed by the way his hands rubbed circles into her back as he whispered "You're alright. You're alright," into her hair, as if to assure himself as much as her.

The flash and subsequent whir of a crime scene camera made her jump and Mulder tightened his grip on her. "Can we have a minute?" he snapped, his voice coming out so harsh and stern compared to how he'd just talked to her.

She turned her head and saw they were in a room with at least ten other law enforcement officers - all with varying levels of pitiful expressions on their faces as they couldn't help but look at the embracing FBI agents.

Embarrassment flooded her and she withdrew her arms from around Mulder, bringing them together near her abdomen as she tried to take a step away. Mulder looked down at her in worry, cupping the side of her head with his hand. "Scully, don't push yourself," he lamented.

Scully shook her head and brought her hands shakily to the back of her neck, suddenly feeling choked by the table runner that had been used as a gag.

"Ma'am, we need to take a picture before yo-."

"I think we have enough evidence, don't you?" Mulder snapped, stepping forward in front of her like he was about to fight anyone who so much as looked at her.

She felt the crime scene analyst take a step away as they apologized to Mulder, but Scully was too busy fumbling with the tie at the back of her neck. She was starting to feel like she couldn't breathe and she was worried she was somehow tightening it. "Mulder?" she gasped.

Scully instantaneously felt his hands cover hers as he deftly untied the fabric, throwing it on the ground before brushing her hair back to make sure she was okay. "Breathe," he whispered, pulling her back to him so he could rub her shoulders.

"I'm fine," she whispered, her eyes focusing on the portrait of a Pfaster that was hung on the wall next to them.

Mulder stepped in front of it, replacing her line of vision with himself instead. "Please don't shut me out, Scully," he pleaded, his brows furrowed in concern. Mulder had comforted her a few times before in the past, but usually it was just a word or two of affirmation. Right now, he felt like he was the sole thing keeping her from drowning.

She glanced around and met the eyes of several people who instinctively looked away. "What do you need, Scully?" he prompted.

Scully looked back at him and noticed that he looked like he was going to combust if he couldn't do something to help her. She could pretend she didn't want his help tomorrow, for tonight, she'd allow them this symbiotic comfort. "I need to leave," she whispered.

"Will you let me take you to the hospital?" he asked.

She nodded once in response and that was all he needed. Without conferring with anyone else, he wrapped his arm around her and took her away from this nightmare.

1995

"Parents in these situations often do not realize the damage they are causing, nor are they actively trying to cause harm. Familial trauma effects all involved and, more often than not, the inattentiveness to the child's feelings is a result of parents being unable to handle their own."

Scully thought when she finally met Teena Mulder that a vital piece to the Mulder-puzzle would fall into place. She'd imagined a witch of a woman devoid of smile lines and with a tongue that could cut like a razor. The jagged-edged puzzle piece that would shift and create the perfect match to the soft edges of her partner who carried a burden from childhood that drove his every move.

Instead, she was met with a rosy cheeked woman who looked at her son's grave like she was contemplating if there was room for two.

It wasn't the piece she anticipated, but the puzzle shifted into place nonetheless, and she saw why Mulder could never admonish his parents while Scully had held so much resentment. Mulder was the sweetest man she knew. He could never find a place in his heart to resent a childless mother, even if she did have a child right next to her waiting to be loved.

Scully couldn't imagine the pain of losing a child, but she could empathize with this woman's pain at losing Mulder, even if only temporarily. Deciding it would be appropriate to go and talk to Mrs. Mulder now that the service was over, she steeled herself to tell the woman a sentiment she must have wanted to hear for decades.

"Your child is still alive."

Just not the one she was used to mourning.

1996

"Some children deal with internalized guilt because of the event. If parents or healthcare professionals neglect to discuss the event candidly to the child, this can cause them to believe they have done something wrong and that is the cause of the omission. When a memory of the event is triggered and the subject is reminded of the event, this can send them into a depressive state because of their guilt."

Mulder was contemplating dealing with Roche. She knew it without him telling her, not that he was saying much of anything in the first place. He hadn't been himself since this all started. No - he was being himself, and that's what was so painful about this all. Scully could see the guilt written all over his face, a guilt and a sense of responsibility so strong that her normally affable, goofy partner who always had something to say was resorting to one word responses and pensive stares. She was seeing the twelve year old little boy who blamed himself for his sister's disappearance, and it took everything in her not to bring him into her arms and tell him it wasn't his fault.

She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to erase the look on his face when he dug into the dirt of the forest with his bare hands, the desperation in his voice when he said "Help me, Scully." She was still deeply touched that when he was faced with the potential of finally finding his sister, he asked for her help. It sounded animalistic coming from his mouth, like his very soul was begging her. It felt like such a private moment, she was certain this was a part of Mulder he never showed anyone.

Finding out the truth about Samantha was the core being of his mission, his life's work, and being this close to the potential truth had left him bare like exposed nerves so oversensitized that he was numb. She'd never seen him so withdrawn and it killed her.

After they met with Roche and he'd teased Mulder, yet again, she drove him home. As grateful as she was he'd accepted, she was worried that he hadn't even refused in the first place.

"Mulder?" she tried, looking at him as they hit another red light.

He was staring at the dashboard as if the answers to his problems would manifest in front of him. Mulder didn't seem to hear her, so she tried again. "Mulder?"

"Hmm?" he hummed in response. If she hadn't heard it, she wouldn't have believed the sound even came from him as he didn't even slightly move. It was like a Mulder deep inside this shell answered, though his mouth couldn't form the words.

She put her hand on his shoulder, her thumb touching the exposed skin of his neck. He blinked and she took that as him acknowledging her. "Mulder, I'm worried about you," she whispered.

He finally turned to look at her and she saw exhaustion painting his features. "I have to know, Scully," he sighed, looking through her.

"He's using you, Mulder," she lamented, desperate to appeal to the part of him that begged for her help in the woods. The part that knew she was there for him, even if that meant telling him what he didn't want to hear.

Mulder shrugged lightly before turning to look ahead. "Probably," he sighed, resigned. He sounded used to this, used to being disheartened.

"I-" she started before a car honked behind her, making her hand shoot back to the wheel. They were only a block from his place, and he was getting out of the car before she had a chance to try talking to him again.

"Do you want me to come up with you?" she offered, reaching for her seatbelt.

He shook his head as he put his hand on the frame of the door. "I just need to think," he murmured, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

"Please, try to get some sleep, Mulder," she pleaded, only for the words to reach the interior of a closed car door.

1997

"Adults who have gone through this experience may find forming attachments difficult. It is not that they are emotionally stunted, but they've been primed through the childhood trauma to question if showing their authentic emotions is appropriate or not since they never received emotional validation. This desire to appear stoic is a defense mechanism that may seem like callousness, indifference, or flippancy in those around them. Because of this, when they do form bonds, they may be perceived as overbearing or clingy to the person they are close to."

She awoke to the sight of her own vigil taking place.

At first the only thing she was able to piece together was that the top of her hand was warm and wet. Then she smelled Mulder's hair and realized he was crying against her hand. For a moment she almost considered turning her hand so that her palm could press against his cheek - anything to comfort the man mourning the loss of his best friend.

"I'm still here," she wanted to say, but her throat clenched and her eyes burned as Mulder's choked sobs reiterated what they both knew: "For now."

She knew she meant a lot to him, but she never imagined herself being the person he bowed his head to in silent prayer.

1998

"These children may exhibit a pattern into adulthood of accepting behaviors and attitudes that others would refuse to put up with. As they are less likely to have positive self-worth, they may see themselves as deserving treatment that reaffirms these negative ideologies of self."

Mulder smirked. Fowley said they were allowed to investigate the X-Files as an indulgence, making Mulder seem like a child being pacified to keep busy to a room full of their peers, but since she said she held interest in his work, he smirked.

Now Mulder was talking to Skinner in his office while everyone else was told to step out into the hall. Most people in the room were content with going on a small walk, stretching their legs, but two people were left in the anteroom of the office poised in an awkward stand-off as they waited for Mulder to emerge.

His partner and his chickadee.

Scully sucked on her top teeth in annoyance as she glanced at Diana, watching as the woman appeared unfazed at the situation. Scully wished Arlene was here - anything to distract from the metronome of her aggravation.

Indulgence.

Chickadee.

Indulgence.

Chickadee.

The Gunmen hadn't explained why they broke up, seemingly shocked they did in the first place, and somewhere deep in Scully's soul she knew it was Diana's doing.

Was that why Mulder acted like that around her? Desperate to get some sort of validation, despite the fact this woman seemed to treat him poorly. Protectiveness flared up in Scully's chest and it threatened to choke her. At least, she wanted to blame it all on protectiveness. Acknowledging the part of herself that felt the bitter sting of indignation as she was condemned for wanting to make sure they were taken seriously while Fowley got a smirk for belittling their work.

"Things got a little heated in there. Didn't they?" Fowley called out, her voice sounding calm and collected as ever.

"I'd say so," Scully bit in response, sounding quite the opposite.

The door swung open and Mulder stepped out, looking around the room at the two women before telling Agent Fowley that Skinner was calling the Attorney General now.

Another smirk.

1999

"Because of childhood trauma, it may be harder for these individuals to let people in. They may be honest about their trauma, but when it comes to letting people see the intimate details of their life, they might be shrouded in mystery (Evans, 1969). Traumatized individuals will only share personal information with people they believe will not hurt them."

The young boy had to go home after thirty minutes of loading balls for them to hit, but Mulder didn't seem to be ready to call it quits yet - and, to be honest, neither was she. It was so rare that they got to spend time together that didn't involve a case. Even rarer was time spent together with so much levity.

Mulder paid the boy some extra money before picking up two mitts that were lying by the machine. "Here," he yelled before throwing one to her.

She caught the worn leather in both hands with a laugh that caused Mulder to smile. "What're we doing?" she asked, instinctively putting her hand in the oversized glove.

"Ever play catch, Scully," he replied, throwing a ball at her.

"I was never invited," she called out, shifting her feet against the sand underneath her to feel how it shifted. "You're my first."

"Mm," he hummed lewdly, causing her to blush at the way she phrased that.

"Underhand can be easier for amateurs," he replied before throwing the ball at her lightly from a few yards away.

Scully caught the ball in the mitt, smiling when he praised her. Then, mimicking him, she threw it overhand to him.

Mulder lifted his arm and caught it with a small jump. He looked at her with raised brows and a boyish grin that made the sensations she'd felt with him behind her stir back up in her abdomen. "You husslin' me, Scully?" he replied, tossing the ball at her with a little more speed.

She caught it with ease and shrugged. "What can I say? I learned from the best," she teased before throwing it back.

Teased. Scully didn't do that often, but she was starting to think maybe she should based on the way his lips curved up shyly. He'd been teasing and gently flirting with her since she met him. She was starting to see the appeal.

"I hope I didn't ruin any evening plans," he replied, throwing it at her.

It was always expected for Mulder to make himself sound like an inconvenience. Even after she just spent thirty minutes giggling in his arms and 'accidentally' moving her body against him in ways that she was sure to revisit when her hand was in her underwear, he still managed to convince himself he was a burden.

"I haven't had fun like this in a long time," she replied, bending to catch a lowball. "Besides, you let me listen to my music on the last road trip even though you didn't like it just because you wanted to hear what I like. I like learning what you like too," she replied sweetly, throwing it back to him with more speed.

Mulder smiled, playing with the ball in his hand before joking, "I just think Alanis Morissette needs to date better guys."

"Like you?" She didn't say it outloud, but she thought it. She jumped to catch a high ball he threw at her, causing him to burst out laughing.

"I'm serious though, Mulder. I like learning more about you," she replied.

Mulder ran to the side a bit to catch the toss before smiling shyly. "I want to learn more about you too."

She caught his next throw as she contemplated her next words. Deciding to take a page out of his book and be bold tonight, she asked, "I think… I think it would be fun if we spent more time together. Maybe we could have movie nights at each other's place or something?"

A smile erupted on Mulder's face before the ball hit him square in the nose - too distracted to catch what she'd hurled at him.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry," she chuckled sympathetically, running over to him and putting her gloved hand on his shoulder.

"I'd love that," he replied, his nose as pink as his cheeks.

2000

"It is not until the individual manages to come to terms with the familial trauma that healing may take place."

She never imagined what she might feel like in this moment because she never thought it would come. A potential romantic relationship with Mulder seemed like it was slowly migrating from the periphery into the foreground, and she was starting to come to terms with the idea that she may forever share the foreground spot of Mulder's sight with the memory of a little girl.

He said he was free, and he'd never looked more so. She had been worried after Harold Piller took off, but Mulder seemed nonplussed, just staring into the sky as if he was looking at an old friend, a small smile of acknowledgement on his lips. "Are you sure you're okay, Mulder?" she asked, reaching out and entwining her fingers in his.

He turned to her and, to her surprise, placed a kiss to the top of her forehead. She looked up at him with wide eyes and saw he was looking at her in adoration, as if nothing existed in this moment except her.

"Let's go home, Scully," he murmured, brushing a tendril of hair behind her ear.

2000

"Adults dealing with residual trauma crave the emotional validation they did not receive as a child. Words of affirmation, consensual physical touch, and other forms of direct reassurance help the traumatized adult feel more self-assured with how they are being perceived."

This one comes to her, like most of these recollections of his thesis do, in the most random of moments. She was standing in his kitchen, wearing his shirt that acts as a dress on her, while she watched him make breakfast. For background noise, he just pressed play on the VCR and the Caddyshack tape from last night started playing over again. Maybe now she'll find out how it ends.

She'd been so desperate to know more about him during that time years ago when she'd read his thesis, that any line she read seemingly became permanently filed away in the Mulder folder of her brain. So now, as she stood here taking in all the new information about him that she was newly privy to - his inability to whistle despite his valiant efforts, the fact he can crack an egg with one hand despite having seemingly basic culinary skills, how he often takes moments to look at her as if he wants to make sure she's still here - the process of filing away the new information caused that little tidbit from seven years ago to leak out.

Deciding to test 22 year old Mulder's hypothesis, she walked over to him with her bare feet padding along the tiles of his floor, and wrapped her arms around his waist so that her chest was flush to his bare back.

"Is this about to be a culinary version of that scene from Ghost?" he asked, his muscles moving as he flipped a pancake over.

"I like being here," she murmured shyly, her words sounding weird from her cheek being smooshed against his back.

It felt weird, but not horribly so. They didn't communicate verbally all that well, it wasn't their thing, but if little moments like these held a chance of letting Mulder know how she felt, then she could overcome her own hang ups. It was a lot easier than mustering the courage to say the three words they already knew.

She felt Mulder's back twist, as if trying to look at her, before he turned back, likely not wanting to dislodge her. "I-I like you being here too," he stammered. While he also was clearly unused to this type of openness, the upward lilt of his inflection told her she'd made him happy.

She liked it.

Squeezing him once tightly, she added, "I'm glad I get to spend the day with you." They were sentiments so PG and mundane that she'd probably even said them to her mother before, but within this special context of her and Mulder's relationship - it felt like a huge step.

"If I knew making you breakfast would have gotten this reaction I would have done it years ago," he joked, though his words were laden with sincerity. She felt him pause for a moment before timidly moving one hand to rest on top of hers.

She smiled into his back and pressed a gentle kiss against warm flesh as Mulder's own version of those three words wrapped around her heart.

#x files #fanfic #mulder #scully #character study #trauma #angst #fluff #ust to rst #irresistible #blessing way #paper hearts #the end #the unnatural #closure #je souhaite #x files fanfiction

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sweetdanibear · 4 years

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Valentine’s Day one shot myheroacademia Villains X gender neutral reader

Warnings: secondhand embarrassment, mentions of fire play, knife play, and some smut. Mention of alcohol

Request: Open🔓

Note: Y/n=your first name L/n=your Last name e/c= your eyecolor

Tomura Shigaraki

He doesn’t really understand why Valentine's day is so important, considering he never really celebrated holidays in general, so when you make such a big deal about it he’s really confused, and most likely overwhelmed.

This being your first Valentine’s day with Shiggy you wanted to make it special. You went out of your way to buy him his favorite snack, drink, and even a bouquet of flowers that remind you of him. Also just for the hell of it, a pair of your already worn panties/boxers, since he’s always trying to steal yours.

You wake him up with a nice breakfast in bed, since he doesn’t eat much in general. When he wakes up and sees the food, and you, he’s really thrown for a loop. He has no idea how to feel, he still has no idea what day it is either.

What the hell is wrong with them? Why are they giving me so many gifts today? He’s really trying to figure out why you’re giving him so many gifts today, and why you seem more affectionate than usual, but he just can’t seem to put his finger on it.

After a whole day of doing special little things for him, he still doesn’t know why the day was so special. Finally you give up, and just tell him.

“It’s valentine’s day Shiggy! I was just trying to do something special for you...But i’ve just weirded you out..” Your voice is soft and you’re not even sure how to react. You knew this would happen, and you can’t stay mad at him, he just isn’t used to this kind of thing. “It’s fine Shiggy, I love you, I just hope you enjoyed everything though..” You give him a soft smile, and gently kiss his cheek walking off.

Shigaraki thinks about what you say, and decides to go, and get you a little something. He takes Twice to the store with him to just help him out. Even though he really didn’t want to spend time with Twice. Shigaraki ends up buying a small box of chocolates, a little heart shaped balloon, and a single flower that Twice said you would like.

When getting back home he knocks on your door, of your shared bedroom, and enters without waiting for the aye okay to enter. He slowly looks up at you, and shyly hands you the gifts in hopes you’ll really like it. It may have been some quick little thing, but you’re the first person to ever show him any true love, and he really wants you to feel as special as you make him feel.

You happily accept his gifts. He kisses you with his chapped rough lips, telling you that he cares for you. Overwhelmed with joy you practically knock him over. He’s careful making sure to not rest all his fingers on you.

You two spend the rest of the night, eating junk food, and watching netflix, until eventually Shigaraki gives you the rest of his gift, which is a rather passionate night.

Dabi

He also has no idea what today is, and too be honest he could care less. To be honest it’s just another day to him. He honestly doesn’t even know what month it is, that’s how much he cares. But you clearly seem pretty excited about it.

This is basically closing in on your one year anniversary so it's your first valentine’s day together.

You barge into his room spooking him a bit, and show him the butterscotch chip heart shaped pancakes you made for him. Butterscotch chips being his lowkey favorite.

In a confused state he reluctantly takes the meal, and thanks you. He eats his food, and drinks the coffee you made him. When finishing everything, he hands it back to you. Looking into your excited eyes, with a complete state of confusion.

“Do you know what day it is?” You ask him with a more of a soft tone, so you don’t keep spooking him so much. Dabi gives you a confused look, and simply shrugs his shoulders responding with a serious. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

That honestly hurts your heart a bit but you definitely don’t let that stop you from giving him love. You hope maybe your gifts will spark something in him, to remind him what today is.

After spending all day showering him with gifts, and attention he starts to get irritated, and eventually lashes out at you. “What the hell are you doing!? Why are you giving me so many damn gifts! What do you want from me?” His flames start to emit from his body, and he watches you back up in fear.

You weren’t trying to upset him, you just wanted to show him how much you loved him. “I-I’m sorry...It’s just.. It’s Valentine’s Day! I’m sorry, I did go overboard..I hope you can forgive me..” You feel utterly embarrassed for thinking he’d like something like this. You start to gather up all the gifts you bought for him, throwing them into a bag and grabbing the receipt. You apologize once again, and leave the hideout to go return them.

Half way down the street, and he finally stops you. “Hey..Stop, I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize it was Valentine’s Day..Thank you. Thank you for the gifts little flame..” Dabi hesitantly wraps his arms around your frame, giving you a tight hug. He brings you back to the hideout, and quickly comes up with an idea. Which is, doing whatever you wanna do.

For the rest of the night he put up with you, and did everything you wanted too. He played video games with you, some card games, baked, and even watched your favorite movie, which happens to be the movie he hates the most.

To end the night off in a way he’d enjoy it, you put on your sexy Valentine day outfit. You gave him head to start the night off right, then let him have complete control. After asking for consent because he had some pretty painful things in mind, he finally started. Burning his name into your ass, and on your chest, dragging a knife down your skin, and absolutely pounding you.

Jin Bubaigawara (Twice )

Jin has been counting the days for Valentine’s Day. He was so excited, the day dedicated to love, and he can spend it with you! He’s been planning this spectacular day for the both of you for a week or two.

Jin wakes you up, and tells you he has something planned for you in the kitchen of his apartment. He leads you to the kitchen, due to the lack of money it was nothing grand but he worked hard. He poured your favorite drink into a glass cup. The table had a nice white table cloth, pillows on the chairs, a single rose in a small vase in the middle of the table. He made eggs, bacon, and a side of toast. He also lit your favorite scented candle.

Jin is so proud of himself. Pulling the chair out for you, and gently kissing your lips. “They love it!” He says softly to himself but the other side immediately saying otherwise. “No they hate they hate it!!” You gently grab his face, and plant a loving kiss to his lips.

“I absolutely love it...I really appreciate this! This is spectacular! You did amazing!” You reassure him,that you love him, and everything he’s done for you.

Finally you two sit down, and enjoy the meal he’s made. You two talk all through breakfast, making jokes, holding hands, being all cheesy and cute.

After breakfast, you both get dressed in something a little nicer than normal. Jin puts on some nice jeans, a black polo with gray horizontal stripes, and even wears your favorite cologne. You two weren’t spending a whole lot of time outside but he wouldn’t want to look homeless next to your beauty.

He takes you to a nearby small rundown shop with movies inside that you can buy. You two enter, holding each other's hands tightly. Jin always stays as close as he can too you, a way to protect you, and being near you keeps him feeling safe.

You two look through the movies, and finally he decides on a comedy, and an action movie. You decide on a cheesy romance, and a romcom. You go over your decisions with each other, too make sure you both will like them. You guys have a small feud about one of your movies. You let out a soft sigh putting it back, but Jin does feel bad because you seemed so excited for it. He grabs the movie and pays for all of them.

On your way home you two stop a vending machine getting some drinks, and some snacks before continuing your walk home.

Jin holds your hand tight walking back to the run down apartment with you by his side like always. When arriving at the apartment, he goes into a random closet pulling out all the blankets, and extra pillows he’s gotten over the years.

“Okay y/n! Now lets build a fort! Then we can get our pajamas on, and make some nachos! Oh! Oh! Or maybe even popcorn!” Jin smiles happily, and was honestly genuinely over the moon to be spending so much time with you.

It takes about two hours or more just to build the fort, between Jin fighting with himself then with you, but in the end he apologizes for starting such a petty argument over where the pillows belong.

Finally everything is set up. You both made a bunch of snacks, your favorite drinks, got all snuggled into the fort, and started to watch your movie.

You two had a wonderful night. Filled with laughs, smiles, feeding each other food, doing that cheesy linked arm then helping each other drink. You guys had a tickle fight that ended up with him on top gazing into your beautiful e/c eyes.

You look up at Jin, and gaze back into his beautiful blue eyes. “I love you so much Jin…” Your soft, and sweet voice echoing through his ears.

“I love you so much too y/n…Happy Valentine’s Day baby(girl/boy).” Jin leaned down pressing his lips gently as he could against yours.

A perfect ending to a perfect day...

Mr.Compress (Atsuhiro Sako)

Sako has known about Valentine’s day since the beginning of February. He wasn’t particular over the moon for it, but he wasn’t not looking forward to it.

Sako had planned for a nice classy dinner date with you at a very expensive restaurant. He got you this beautiful red sexy dress/suit. He bought you whatever your heart desires as well.

You never bothered to question where he got the money, you just enjoyed being spoiled so much by him. You also always did feel rather guilty though.

You were currently in your shared bedroom, getting all pretty for your boyfriend, and your special dinner date. You touched up your hair then looked up hearing the door open.

“My love..Are you ready?” Sako curiously asked, standing in a pair of black dress pants, a red button up, with a black dress vest. “You look absolutely ravishing my dear…” Sako walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He gently placed his chin upon your shoulder, smiling into the mirror. He finally took off both his mask, and his signature hat, revealing his beautiful face.

You thought your boyfriend was the cutest human in the entire world. His beautiful chocolate brown eyes, dark colored hair, his soft skin. He was perfect in your eyes.

You nod happily in response before finally speaking. “I’m all ready! I’m really excited for dinner!” You turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck, tangling your slender fingers in his soft hair. “I never said it, but thank you..Thank you for buying me all these beautiful gifts. Thank you for taking the time off to spend Valentine’s day with me.” Your eyes gaze into his leaning in. You press your lips softly against his, and smile sweetly. “Alright I’m ready to go now!”

When you make it outside there’s a slick black limo just sitting there. You want to think it’s for you but you don’t want to get your hopes up, OR make Sako feel bad for not being able to get a limo.

“Mr.Atsuhiro.” The elderly man bowed out of respect, and opened up the back door to an all red limo. Your eyes practically sparkle, and you have on the biggest smile. Looking up at Sako.

You’re so stunned you can barely think, or move, or even speak. You let Sako lead you into the limo, as he’s practically even helping you sit down, and get comfy.

Sako pours both of you a glass of strawberry champagne, and hands it over to you. “A special night for a special girl/guy.” He says in his usual charming voice. The both of you clinking glasses then sipping at your alcohol.

Once arriving at your destination you're the first one out of the limo. Fixing your hair, and outfit. Sako comes out with a proud cocky smirk, and adjusting his bow tie, then brushing back his hair. You two may have managed to get a bit frisky in the back seat of the limo. Just some heavy petting, and a heated make out session.

After collecting yourselves, the both of you enter the beautiful restaurant. A well dressed waiter leading you too your table. The inside was glistening with dim lit chandeliers, tables with beautiful red table cloth, white metal chairs with a white plush seat, and to top it all off. A non scented candle in the center of the table with a single red rose.

“Oh this place is absolutely beautiful Sako..” You carefully sit down in the chair that was kindly pulled out for you. You assist by pulling the chair in with you. “This looks really expensive how-” you were sadly cut off short by Sako’s slender finger placed against your full soft pink lips.

“How many times have I told you? Do NOT worry about money. As long as I’m around you’ll never have to pay for anything ever again.” Sako slightly narrowed his eyes to show how serious he really was. You couldn’t help it though, you were always worried about how much money he spent on you. He was a villain for christ sakes, and on top of that he was part of LOV, and you doubt they make good money. Especially enough to pay for the things Sako has purchased. If he is even buying these items, and not stealing them…

“Order whatever your heart desires.” Sako said in a soft voice, pulling you from your thoughts. You nod your head ordering your favorite wine. You then order whatever you find interesting for food.

While there Sako seemed a bit distant. He was quieter then normal, at least he held your hand the whole time. Every now, and then giving your hand a slight squeeze.

After dinner, you finally decide to ask what’s wrong. “Darling..What’s on your mind? You’re quiet...Are you not having a good time?” You ask curiously, and Sako just stares at you for a moment.

“Quite the opposite. I’m having a splendid time..I just have a question for you..” Sako stood from his spot, wiping his mouth with the red cloth napkin.

Sako approaches you, gently getting down on one knee. “I was just trying to figure out when the right time to ask you this was..” Sako reaches into his pocket pulling out a black velvet box. He cracks it open, and shows off a silver band. Attached to the silver band was a huge diamond in the shape of a heart with rubies lining the silver band. “Y/n l/n...Will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs/Mr.Atsuhiro..?” Sako had a light in his eyes, a light you haven’t seen in quite some time.

Your heart nearly stops, you’re not even quite sure how to react. Your face held a baffled expression before you finally reacted. “Sako…” Your voice trailed. Sako could feel his heart sink, all eyes were on you two. Your anxiety spikes before finally you speak. “Sako..You idiot..You know I hate pda..” You whisper to him causing him to smile. “Is that a yes?” He asked curiously. “Yes..” You say softly before being overwhelmed with joy. “Of course Sako! Of course I’ll marry you!” You practically tackle him down. His arms wrap around your waist, and he squeezes you tight as everyone cheers for you two.

After getting a free dessert from the restaurant you two head on home. When arriving home he had another gift for you. Roses, and candles leading to your shared bedroom. When arriving at the bedroom he ravishes you right then, and there.

Sako held your hips tightly, as he shifted his cock, in, and out of you. His head resting next to yours, letting out heavy hot breaths against your neck. “F-Fuck~ I love you so much Mrs/Mr.Astushiro..~” Sako rammed himself deep inside you earning a loud moan to emit from your throat. “Oh god! I love you Mr.Astushiro!” You cry out, reaching your climax.

#mha dabi #mha shigaraki #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #dabi fanfic #one shot #gender neutral reader #mr. compress #jin bubaigawara #bnha twice #tomurashigaraki #mha x gender neutral reader #my hero academia x gender neutral reader #atsuhiro sako

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bomberqueen17 · 4 years

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tiny house

I have barely even wanted to admit this to myself but this is a journal, after all, and I write things down here that I want to work through by writing about them to think about them, so. Here follows a bunch of disorganized whiny bullshit, which, you’ve been warned.

One of the things I was hoping to do with my dad this coming year was to build a tiny house to replace the yurt. We’d begun discussing it this past year, of course, but what with the pandemic and all of the insane bullshit, it got sidelined, and it was fine because while normally I’m at risk of getting kicked out of the guestroom at the farm to make room for some out of town guest, that wasn’t going to happen this year, and in fact never did. So. It wasn’t important and didn’t matter. I’d got a set of blueprints, and Dad looked it over and was like “yes we’ll build that,” and moreover was like “Ah I have salvage windows that I can alter these plans to fit, no problem,” and was even like “I have a list of the lumber we’d need, I can go put in an order for that, and just get that so we can get started in the spring.” and like. I guess I’m glad he didn’t buy any lumber.

And it may well not be important, and not matter next year. But the thing is I’d had that yurt for several years (and dad had spent like four days building me the platform it was on, which then got burnt up, lolsob), and it’s really hard to overstate how much of a sanctuary it was to me. I spent hardly any time in it, I mostly just slept there, but it was somewhere I could leave my shit and it wouldn’t be in someone’s way and nobody would yell at me. (I had to be real careful about how I left it because of rain, ants, mice, wind, spiders, possible raccoons, etc., but no human would touch my shit, at least. Given that Farmsister is slightly OCD and I can’t have things in her house without her piling them in the corner of the guestroom if I leave them for more than a week, that’s no small luxury.) And it was a place I could have weird things that I like, like candles or incense or fairy lights. There’s nowhere in my house I can have those things, really; Dude isn’t going to say no, but he doesn’t like them much, and it’s kind of rude to make the place smell funny, and so on. [he genuinely has like. altar boy ptsd about candles and incense and i respect that.]

(I bought myself a box of fairy lights like three Christmases ago, intending to put it up because I’m a basic bitch who likes fairy lights, and I... I actually got it out a couple of weeks ago and went all around the house and there’s literally no space in it that’s mine, where such a thing wouldn’t be kind of annoying and in the way. My bedroom, you might say-- well, I don’t have my own bedroom, of course, we both sleep there. The guest bedroom? That’s dude’s office now. I guess the basement but the wiring down there is not fantastic and I don’t tend to hang out down there. I mean I spend hours down there but not contiguously, and I don’t hang out, I’m just working on things like on the sewing machine or the cutting table or in the washing machine or whatever. It’s not like I would sit down there with a candle and some incense and my Kindle and a glass of wine and the fairy lights, like I would in the yurt.)

So I’ve got this weird little collection of things, like the fairy lights, like a spare cutting board that doesn’t fit in my kitchen, like some extra mugs I like but don’t use, like a spare tiny throw rug, that are things I would put in my tiny house or yurt or whatever, if I had such a thing. And I have all these vague notions, of like, if I had a desk of my own, and what I’d put on it, and I actually bought some weird books that would go on the bookshelves I daydreamed about having in there, where nobody’s gonna judge my shit and it won’t be in the way.

I don’t need a space. I have a house, and it’s full of my stuff. I stay in the guestroom for months on end at the farm and it’s not like anyone’s visiting soon.

but I wanted to do a big project with Dad. I wanted it to be my turn for him to spend time with me, which I know is kind of a goofy little-kid thing to say but I was feeling that, a bit. And i wanted a little space that would be mine, and I had even started thinking about how we’d make it really well (because john kelly never built anything by halves, that thing would’ve been both archival and fucking bulletproof) and it would outlast him because yeah he was going to live to 100 but I’d only be in my 60s by then I’m not a fool I knew I’d likely bury my dad someday, someday, and probably Willa would use the tiny house once i wasn’t anymore, or it would wind up-- anyway, who knows. There were a lot of things tied up in it in my mind.

So now I’m like. I should just. Find a shitty old RV and live in that. Or buy a prefab shed. Or a fancy tent. Or something. So I’ve been looking at things like that and I just. They’re either so expensive, or I’d have to be so lucky to find one (BIL did actually spend the entire year with a standing search going on Craigslist and FB Marketplace to find a cheap RV or camper or anything at all-- he has cause to buy them for farm reasons and he needs one for staff but also he was looking for one for me). Or. Whatever.

Anyway I’m like. Stupidly, weirdly grieving the concept of a house when I already live in a house. (It belongs to Dude, not me, and the few times I’ve mentioned that I feel a little weird I’m not on the deed at all he was like oh but it would be trivial to add you, but he hasn’t. He makes a point of discussing all the proposed renovations and such with me, and like yeah sure it’s coming out of our joint account but let’s be real I made four figures this year in actual earned income and he made six, let’s not delude ourselves about that. I know it upsets him that he tells me about renovations he’s researched and I’m always like honey whatever sounds good to you it’s your house, and he’s always like it’s our house and I’m like, so you say, verbally, but like. It’s not, and it’s hard for me to make myself believe that. ANYWAY.)

Anyway.

I spent a while daydreaming my way through the Jamaica Cottage Co’s inventory but those largely come as precut assemble-it-yourself kits (they have some preassembled ones but 1) mostly just the tiniest ones and 2) hoo that is super out of my price range) and bitch I can barely operate an electric screw gun, I am not going to be able to do that on my own. And my dad was the only person I was ever going to feel comfortable asking to do something so ambitious and complex just for me (even him, I’d feel guilty about, but I had a pretty solid 41 years of data including some pretty formative shit that he was probably not gonna secretly be mad at me for stuff). Anyone else, even if they offer freely, I’m not going to be able to take them up on it because I would feel like I owed them so much of a favor I’d never be able to repay it. Nobody else loves me like that, that I could just believe they didn’t mind and like I could possibly deserve that kind of attention.

(Note, I’m not saying nobody does love me that much, I’m just saying i dont’ think I could ever believe that somebody else loved me that much, yes I’m including my mother, no I know damn well that doesn’t make sense how many fucking sweaters has that woman knit me let alone how she bore the brunt of my entire fucking adolescence and never even attempted to murder me once.)

So anyway. It’s sort of no longer soothing to daydream about tiny houses and yet I keep poking it like a sore tooth. God I just want somewhere I can be like. Alone for a minute. Where I can feel like I’m out of the way. I constantly feel like I’m in the way, in every other place in my entire life, because I am, and I’m just so tired of always being in the way, and I’m too big and my clutter is too much and my sense of aesthetics is weird as hell and I just-- want-- to not have that matter, in one single context, and I don’t have that and won’t have that.

And I know it doesn’t help that this is clearly partly tied up in some weird bullshit about me and Dude that I don’t know how to unpick! I tried to discuss the basic framework of this essay with him and I know that every time he talks about fixing up this house and I am supportive but vague, and every time I talk about getting a tiny house to live on the farm more, he is slightly upset but denies being such, and that’s not a useful thing to crosstalk about but I do not have the slightest bit of capacity to sort any of that out at the moment because I am too fucking busy being really fucking sad about a thing I am not going to get to do with my dad and a sanctuary I am not going to have that would have been like a direct lasting connection to the person I have always loved the most in this world etc etc blah blah blah.

Oh man I’m just so fucking sad. But it’s so dumb, of all the fucking things to be sad about I’m sad he didn’t do a big complicated difficult thing for me because I’m too much of a weenie to figure out any other way of doing something that difficult! Wahh wahh, Christ almighty.

(I really wish I did have a space to myself in this house, i can’t even really cry about it because I feel too awkward crying in front of Dude and there’s not really anywhere I can do that without it being awkward. I’ve cried briefly in the shower but that kind of echoes, it’s no good. At the moment he’s on the other side of the sectional politely pretending I’m not typing furiously and blowing my nose every three seconds.)

Hoo. Okay. IDK if writing that down actually helped but well, I did it, there it is.

(For the record, this one is the closest to the one I’d given the plans for to Dad.)

#idk if i have to tag this don't re/blog but like #personal #about the author #tw grief #grieving #being sad about dumb shit

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fallen-gravity · 4 years

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Safety in Numbers

A surprise gift fic for @artsymeeshee, because the art she recently posted of the Stan Twins cuddling warmed my heart and apparently inspired me to write..uh...almost five thousands words.

Don’t you dare tag this as a ship.

Summary: Every great thing that ever happens to you is usually followed by something much, much worse.

You save the world from the apocalypse, you're convinced that you've lost everything and everyone you've ever loved.

You gain your memories back, you have nightmares so vivid that they fuck with your sense of fantasy versus reality.

It's a lose-lose, if you ask Stan.

AO3

Stan awakens to an alarm clock he doesn’t remember setting. Groaning, he sits up, eyes not quite open yet, and his back makes an ugly popping sound he knows he’s going to feel as soon as his body is fully awake. He blinks his eyes open slowly, and takes a few moments to re-familiarize himself with his twin brother’s old study room. He turns, to check the time and stop that infernal beeping sound, but his neck is so stiff that it makes him want to blow chunks. That’s what he gets for sleeping on a couch, he supposes, but he’s certainly slept on worse, and even if Ford did have a bed somewhere in the mess of a shack he chose to call home, Stan certainly didn’t deserve it, because people who are probably responsible for the death of their family don’t deserve nice things.

Grunting, he swings his legs off the couch, and stands so he doesn’t have to bend his neck in any more weird directions just to turn the alarm off. Its obnoxiously bright red letters blink 5:31am, and Stan scrubs a hand down his face as he punches the clock’s OFF button with the other.

That’s right. The only reason he set the damn alarm in the first place is because a stubborn customer who couldn’t speak a lick of English refused to leave the gift shop until she found the perfect gift for her little kiddo back home despite the Shack having closed nearly half an hour prior. It’s the only time in his life he’s ever been grateful for the year he was trapped in Colombia, because he’s sure if he wasn’t able to heckle with her in Spanish her into leaving with one of everything, he has a feeling she’d still be wandering back and forth across the shop. Stan laughs to himself at the thought, and makes a mental note to make that sort of thing an attraction someday if he ever gets a customer as stubborn as she is again.

But no, that’s not what matters right now. He bends over to pick up a hairbrush that’d been carelessly tossed to the floor the night prior and runs it through his soft brown hair that he promises he’s going to get cut as soon as he has the time and money, and as soon as his hair manageable enough to brush through it without snagging on any tough knots, he carelessly tosses the brush over his shoulder and heads out of the room, navigating himself around the place with a flashlight. He’s aware that it’d make things much easier to just turn the lights on, but keeping the gift shop lights on all weekend is already burning a hole in his wallet, and he’s not sure he could afford the electricity bill if he left the lights in the study room on by mistake for even ten extra minutes.

When he reaches the staircase leading to the basement, he flicks the flashlight off and sets it down on the counter by the cash register. It’s much easier to navigate down the winding steps with both of his hands free in case he falls and needs to catch himself, and the faint blue hum of the portal is enough of a light source to show him the way to the basement anyway. He sits down at the desk, adjusts the framed photo of himself and Ford at boxing practice in high school, and pulls Journal 1 out from the hidden shelf in front of the monitor. He’d spent all of last week desperately looking for 2 and 3, but the harsh winter snowfall had cut his search short and he didn’t want to waste any more time when he could just try to get the damned thing working without them.

“C’mon, Poindexter, y’gotta give me something to work with,” he mumbles, opening the desk drawer and pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “I spent weeks memorizing all of your fancy shmancy ciphers. That’s more than I ever studied in high school. You can’t ramble on for two whole pages about how to crack them and then switch to this…” he squints at the squiggles scattered across the portal’s blueprints. “...Cooky alien language, or whatever. This is real life we’re talkin’ here. This is your life we’re talkin’ here. It’d be a lot easier if you didn’t write this thing in Klingon, or whatever”

Stan knows, at the back of his mind, that talking to the journal like it’s Ford himself isn’t going to get him anywhere, but in a weird kind of way, it makes him feel less alone. Helps a guy out from feeling too lonely, y’know?

He chuckles to himself at his own joke, taking comfort in the fact that if Ford were here he’d probably be rambling off about how Klingon is one of thousands of different intergalactic languages and how he obviously wrote it in Hqjolvk, thank you very much, and Stan can’t help but roll his eyes fondly as he flips through his notepad. He’s tried everything, he’s tried translating them to whichever letter in the English alphabet they just happen to look closest to, he’s tried throwing sentences in gibberish into three different ciphers at once to see if he could get anything even relatively close to whatever it is, and even when he “bought” a book at the store on ancient hieroglyphics and ancient symbolism the closest thing he got was just a bunch of dumb numbers. And even then, translating all of those dumb numbers back to English from a1z26 just hit him against another dumb wall.

Frustrated, he throws the pad of paper against the desk and kicks off from its edge, sending his swivel chair flying backwards across the room. When the chair finally stops rolling, his gaze fixes on the portal through the window in front of the desk he’d just been sitting at, and it’s really only now that he’s looking at it from this distance, from this angle, that he notices….the same weird squiggles from the journal carved all over the circular ring in the center of the portal.

But...if the weird squiggles in the journal came from the portal, and translating those numbers from the Egyptian book through a1z26 just gave him gibberish...could...could it be that easy? Could it be-?

“Coordinates!” Stan yells, jumping to his feet, and tears build in his eyes at the epiphany. “Sweet Moses, they’re coordinates! How could it’ve been so obvious?” he cries, and nearly trips over himself in excitement as he scrambles back over to the monitor, and his hands are shaking as he flips through his notepad. Once he finds the page he’s looking for, he forces his hands steady as he enters the number into the keypad.

The tiny, logical voice in the very back of his mind is screaming at him that it’s never going to work, he only has a third of what he needs, he really shouldn’t get his hopes up, but the slamming of his heart against his chest drowns that sound out as he frantically enters and re-enters the numbers when he’s sure he accidentally entered the wrong ones (damn his chubby fingers), and when he’s finally, finally certain he’s gotten them all entered correctly, he presses the dark red SEND button, takes a few steps backwards, and waits.

For what couldn’t be longer than two minutes but feels like six hours, there’s nothing. Stan’s about to sigh, call it a good stopping point for the day and kick himself for getting his hopes up too high, but then a flash of blue lightning sparks from the portal and strikes the ground.

“HA!” Stan exclaims, pumping his fists in the air. “I knew it! I knew it! Nothing can stop Stan Pines!”

He sprints into the portal room, pausing only briefly to grab the toolbox on his way in. Two more bolts of lightning strike against the ground with a loud pop as he enters, and the grin spread across Stan’s face rivals them in brightness. Kneeling down in front of the lever, Stan opens his toolbox and pulls out his lucky red screwdriver that’s gotten him out of his fair share of car trunks, and goes to work on fixing up loose bolts and that awful crunching sound the lever kept making the last time he tried turning it on.

Three bolts emerge from the portal, and Stan is too ecstatic to notice their uncomfortably close proximity to his head. He stands, once he’s absolutely certain he’s got the lever all fixed, and puts everything he has into shoving the lever from its off position to the on position.

He can hear the gears turning in the machine, and his heart is pounding so hard against his chest it makes his ears ring. He’s tearing up again, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he gets to punch Ford in the shoulder and tell him off to never scare him like that again when he emerges in the next couple of minutes. The circular ring in the center of the portal begins to spin, slowly, and those weird symbols carved along it start to glow blue.

Stan nearly drops to his knees, but no, he can’t let Ford see him at rock bottom, and maybe that’s a little selfish, considering all of the places Ford’s probably been the past two years, but the last thing he needs Ford to see is how much he’s been killing himself working to get him back. The ring spins faster, and faster, and where there was once a hole in the center of the portal that leads only to the back wall of the room, there’s now a blindingly bright flash of blue light, and Stan is knocked to the ground by the kickback.

He goes to stand again, but the sound of shattering glass turns his attention elsewhere. He looks behind him, and the lightbulbs in the other room are exploding like it’s nobody’s business. He’s lucky his hearing was heightened from the ten years on the street, because he’s just quick enough to hear the cracking of the bulb right above his head that he’s able to dodge out of the way of the shattered glass as it rains down towards him. He jumps to his feet, brushing his clothes off, but he’s horrified to see that the portal’s ring is beginning to slow to a stop with no twin brother in sight.

“No!” he cries, and sprints back into the other room to reenter the coordinates into the monitor. But it’s just his luck, because the monitor’s glass is shattered to pieces as well, and there’s a thin line of black smoke rising from it. “No, no no no! I was so close!” he shouts, and sprints back into the portal room. He switches the lever from on to off and back to on again, but nothing changes.

When the ring comes to a complete stop, the bright blue light fades away, an ugly kind of rage boils in the pit of Stan’s stomach. “This is all your fault, you dumb machine!” he yells, and launches at the portal like it was a thug trying to rob him of his wallet, and starts punching it like there’s no tomorrow, like if he gave it enough left hooks it’ll obey him and spit Stanford right out to his side.

He’s about to go in for another punch when he hears the sound of the machine’s gears turning again. He grins, rubbing his hands together, and steps backwards to watch the process in its completion. Four bolts spark from the portal this time, but rather than strike the ground, they lunge for him, and Stan screams in agony as they jolt through his whole body. He takes it as a sign that he’s probably better off watching the process from the desk in the other room, but when he tries to turn heel and run, five bolts of lightning reach out and snake around his leg before he can take another step further, and he collapses to the ground. Gritting his teeth to avoid letting out a choked cry of pain, Stan tries to inch himself towards the lever for support to stand up, but it’s as if the damned lightning has the power to read his thoughts, because it shocks the lever with such a thick bolt of lightning that it fries the thing black.

The charge from the lightning gives the lever just the right amount of static charge it needs to reactivate properly, and Stan doesn’t notice the hum of the portal’s gears getting louder and louder until he finds himself floating off the ground. “W-whoa, hey! Hey! Hold on a minute!” Stan scrambles around at nothing in particular, hoping his feet or arms will snag on something and prevent him from getting pulled in. “Let’s talk this over! We can work together!” He must be losing his damn mind if he thinks bargaining with the portal like it’s sentient is going to do anything, but it’s the only option he’s got left. “I just want my brother back! You want to stay on, yeah? You don’t like getting turned on and off at random, right? I’ll-I’ll keep you on! As long as it takes for my brother to find his way home, I’ll keep you turned on! I promise!”

The machine, of course, does not respond, and the higher Stan gets off the ground the blurrier his vision gets. Damn fear of heights. He flaps his arms around as if he could fly, but nothing seems to work. He starts kicking, as well, to see if swimming towards the ground could work any better, but he still doesn’t budge.

But that does give him the idea of kicking off of the portal itself, since it’s the only solid thing left, save for the ceiling, and Stan curls himself up into a ball to try and get himself to flip over. It works, thankfully, but when he turns his glance back towards the portal his heart drops to his stomach. Curling himself up had helped his body change directions, yes, but it also changed his course entirely. Rather than being sucked towards the edge of the portal’s entrance, like he’d been when he was hovering above the lever, he’s now heading right for the center of the portal with nowhere to kick off of.

“N-No! No!” He shouts frantically, kicking his leg away from the cold blue substance the portal emitted. When he spares another glance backwards, his feet are already sucked inside, and the rest of him is quickly following. “No! Somebody help! Somebody!” he shouts, his own words painfully echoing those of Ford’s when he’d been in the same situation.

Ford,

If the portal manages to stay active after he gets sucked in, Ford’s gonna be able to find his way home, but he’ll be all alone, left to wonder what could’ve happened to him. Vaguely, Stan remembers Ford had been saying something about shutting it down for good, and his panicked flailing at the thought that he may be the one never coming again only makes his descent into the portal quicken. “Stanford!” he shouts, in the odds that his brother can hear his cries from the other side of the portal. “Stanford, do something! Stanford!”

The blue substance within the portal is thick and flavorless as his head is sucked in. He closes his mouth, because he doesn’t want to risk suffocating on whatever the hell this stuff is made of, and closes his eyes for impact for the same horrors that swallowed up his brother just two years prior, and…

…

When he forces his eyes open again, he’s lying on a bed. An actual, decently sized bed with fluffy blankets and at least three pillows supporting his head and neck. He’s not sure he’s slept on one of those in….what, thirteen years, give or take, if he’s not including the bug-infested hotels?

All of his burns from the lightning strikes have seemingly vanished into thin air, along with that gnawing hunger that never seemed to leave his stomach even when he had the time to eat more than a single meal a day, and though the air feels cool, it doesn’t feel humid and stuffy like Ford’s old lab had felt moments ago.

The rest of his aches are gone, too, he realizes as he sits up, replaced now by a dull pain in his hips and knees that he supposes he could credit to getting sucked into a portal and falling thirty feet to the ground to...uh, wherever he is now.

Is this where Ford’s been stuck all this time? It’s no wonder he never tried to find his way back on his own, because all things considered, this place is actually pretty comfortable. Maybe he wound up on a friendly alien planet, and some locals rushed him to the hospital to get him fixed up. But there’s no calamity outside his door like there usually is in most hospitals back on Earth, and there’s no weird tubes attached to either of his arms and not a sight of ace bandages anywhere on his body. And...is he…swaying back and forth?

Stan glances down at his hands, and the rest of his body still wrapped in a thick comforter. No, it’s not him, he realizes quickly, it’s the room that’s swaying back and forth. If he squints hard enough, he can make out the foot of his bed gently rocking back and forth. Scratching at his head, he goes to stand up and investigate his surroundings, until he notices a round window next to where he’d just been laying his head, just outside of his current line of sight. He lies back down, and his breath nearly catches in his throat at the sight.

It’s the biggest cluster of stars he’s ever seen his entire life, and if he looks close enough, he can see streaks of what he can only assume must be the galaxy itself. It certainly looks like the Earth’s skies, and when he looks again he notices the stars are reflecting off of… some kind of body of water?

Ah, so he’s on a boat. That explains the swaying. There’s a twinge of warm nostalgia in chest at the realization, of the days two scrappy little boys from New Jersey would spend their afternoons working on a sailboat of their own, musing dreamily about the day they’d finally sail away from the dumb town.

But...no. That couldn’t possibly be right. He got kicked out at seventeen, and Ford is god-knows-where in the universe. This must be some sort of sick joke, or an optical illusion that plays on his greatest dreams, or something. He turns away from the window, covering that half of his face with the blanket, and fully intends to fall asleep so he can bug the boat’s captain in the morning about where the hell he is and how the hell he wound up here in the first place. Just as he’s about to close his eyes, though, he notices a bulky, bright pink book sitting at his bedside table next to the lamp.

Well, he’s got nothing to lose, right? Maybe this thing’ll have some answers. He flicks the lamp on and sits up. The book is called MABEL’S SCRAPBOOK, and the title written in glitter pen in a child’s handwriting.

He snorts in laughter. Maybe the book belongs to the captain’s daughter, and she left it in here by mistake. Still, it could help to learn more about the family keeping him captive, and it’s not like she’ll know he ever read it, right? He chuckles to himself at the thought, but as soon as he grabs for the book to place it on his lap, the feel and smell of the dried glue and paint on the cover makes him feel dizzy, and his head’s suddenly swirling with so many thoughts that he feels like he’s drowning.

Grunkle Stan, it’s me! It’s me Grunkle Stan!

There has to be something we can do! I know my grunkle’s in there!

This is our first day in Gravity Falls, and this is when you let me take the grappling hook from the gift shop! Dipper thought I’d never use it, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Zing!

Over and over, all at once, the voice of two….wonderful, incredible rascal little nuisance kids keep yelling at him in his head, and he slams the book back down against his nightstand.

Damn memory relapses. Ford warned him they could happen, since McGucket had experienced a few of them himself before Stan and Ford left Gravity Falls, but Ford never said anything about the nightmares. Yeah, yeah, he could see it as a good thing, extra proof that his mind’s intact and they don’t need to worry that it’ll ever be gone for good, but nothing sucks more than nightmares that are so based in reality that they fuck with your sense of what’s real and what isn’t.

Stan rubs his eyes, and stands up. He figures it’d be a good idea to step out on deck and get some fresh air. He has no idea what time it is, but maybe if he goes and stares at the stars long enough he’ll eventually feel tired enough to crawl back into bed. He flicks his lamp light back off, and he’s maybe three steps out of his bedroom door before he notices that the light in Ford’s bedroom next to his is still on.

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. He wants to be mad at Ford for staying up this late, and any other night he would tell him off and guilt him into sleeping by lying about how his light and excessive scribbling is what woke him up, but tonight he’s actually relieved by his brother’s dangerous sleeping habits, because talking out loud about his relapses and distinguishing real memories from fake ones always seems to widen the gap between his next relapse, and it certainly doesn’t help that tonight’s nightmare was about Ford’s disappearance. He creaks the door open slowly, to avoid activating Ford’s flight-or-magnet-gun-in-your-face response, and his mouth closes just as quickly as he’d opened it to speak. Ford’s desk lamp is on, yes, but his nerdy brother is not, in fact, hunched over with a thousand stacks of paper covering his face like he usually is this time of night.

Oh no. The lamp, it seems, was left on by mistake, because Ford’s curled up in his bed, fast asleep with his face half-buried in the pillow and his glasses tucked away in the drawer of his nightstand that he must’ve forgotten to close. Rolling his eyes, Stan sneaks into the room as quietly as he can and flicks the light off so he doesn’t have to replace the lightbulb when it subsequently dies out in the morning.

He turns heel, and he’s set on going back to his original plan of staring up at the sky until he feels tired again, but as he turns to close Ford’s door he gets another close look at his brother’s sleeping form and his chest warms with nostalgia at the sight as another memory, one from his childhood, resurfaces itself tonight.

When they were kids, Pa was...never the comforting kind of parent. And yeah, while that was pretty obvious in that it was always Ma who helped patch up their skinned knees and splinters from the boardwalk and the occasional bee sting, there were times he’d be...more subtle about it, if that’s even the right word to describe him. If either of them came poking their heads in their parents’ bedroom after a nightmare, asking if they could crawl in bed and sleep with them for the night, Pa would always brush them off and send them back to their own room, giving them some excuse about the shop opening early tomorrow and how he can’t afford to lose any sleep in case someone tries to come in and rob them.

From a young age, Stan and his brother learned that it’d be easier just to stop asking Pa at all, and instead they’d resort to climbing into each other’s bed instead. They shared a bunk bed up until they were about fourteen, and they had this unspoken system going where if the other poked them awake or tried to crawl under their blanket in the middle of the night, they’d have to comply and let them in without asking why because it usually meant they were having bad dreams. Ford learned very early on never to hesitate for Stan, because he knew that if Stan was willing to climb to the top bunk despite his fear of heights that his nightmares must’ve been bad.

Stan pauses, and wonders if Ford still remembers those times as well as he does. He hesitates, his grip still tight around the doorknob, until he recalls that it had been Ford who had asked him to accompany him to the arctic, and Ford who kept their childhood photo tucked away in the pocket of his trench coat.

Well, here goes nothing.

Just as quietly as he’d been before, he tiptoes over to Ford’s bedside, and he’s thankful to find that there was still enough room for him to crawl under the covers without squishing Ford uncomfortably against the wall. Slowly, as not to jostle the blankets too much to wake his brother, he flips a corner of the blanket up, crawls underneath, and as soon as his head hits the extra pillow he’s out cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Ford had to complain about anything from his thirty year trip around the multiverse, besides, well...all of it, he’d have to credit the worst of it to his heightened hearing.

Ages ago, when it’d just been two weeks since he was sucked into the portal, he taught himself to sleep with his eyes open, and he taught his ears to pick up on the tiniest of movements, even the wind blowing the leaves off a tree branch. He couldn’t afford capture, and if that meant he had to sacrifice sleep to assure it wouldn’t happen, then so be it.

He’d lost the habit of sleeping with his eyes open after all the time he spent with Jheselbraum, thank god, but he could never quite get over the habit of listening. Every time something creaked in the Shack, every time Stan or one of the kids awoke in the middle of the night in search of the bathroom, it’d wake him up in a jolt, and it’d always take him longer than necessary to fall back asleep.

The nights on the Stan O’ War II are usually the quietest and most peaceful nights Ford’s ever experienced since his childhood. Though he and Stan always spend their days tracking and hunting monsters, they’re always able to find quiet little seaport towns to dock their boat when they need a place to rest for the night where nobody makes a peep until sunrise.

That is...until tonight. He’d been awake just a few minutes prior, mapping out the coordinates for the next monster they needed to track down and how long it would take for them to find it, but he finally got to a point where he had been so tired that his handwriting was starting to give up on him and he decided it was probably for the best that he just go to sleep. Standing to stretch, he places his glasses in the drawer of his nightstand and didn’t bother with the lamp light because he could just replace the bulb in the morning if need be, and practically collapsed face first onto his bed and fell asleep.

He heard mumbling coming from the thin wall to his brother’s room, and since their departure from Gravity Falls he’s become so used to Stan’s constant presence that it no longer bolts him awake. In a way it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s never alone on the vast sea. He shifts, when he hears his brother’s slippers lightly slapping against the deck, but dismisses that just as quickly.

He can feel himself dozing back off to real sleep when he hears his own lamp click off and his bedroom door closing. Ah, Stan was probably coming in to check on him but left when he saw that he was already asleep. That’s fine; he did that a lot the week before they left for their trip. He’s used to it.

What he’s not used to is the blanket getting ripped from his shoulders, and the bed making a dull creaking sound of...something sitting on it. Baffled, he pops his eye open, ready to reach for his weapon in case some sea creature managed to slip on board and into his bed, but his heart rate eases when he makes out the familiar shape of his brother fast asleep in the other half of his bed.

The sight of it makes Ford want to laugh.

He can’t believe Stan remembers.

Closing his eyes, Ford shifts his position ever so slightly, like it’s a maneuver he’s been practicing for ages, and scooches himself closer to Stan without shaking the bed. He snakes an arm around Stanley’s shoulder, whose whole body seems to release itself of tension at the gesture. Unconsciously, Stan shifts himself closer to Ford as well, and snakes his own arm around Ford’s chest, like he, too, had been practicing the maneuver since they were separated all those years ago.

#my writing #gravity falls #stan twins #sea grunkles #artsymeeshee

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simsadventures · 4 years

Text

Only Mine: Chapter 13: Where’s the Truth

Mobster!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky has to undergo a surgery. Meanwhile, Steve and Sam try to find out the truth. But who should they trust?

Warnings: angst, so much angst!, hospital, surgery, blood, more angst, swearing

Word Count: 2419

A/N: I seriously can’t help myself with all this angst. Actually made myself cry so... Anyway, what did you think of this? Some more assholes in this chapter! Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

You had your eyes closed, hoping that when you open them, everything would go back to normal. The car ride to the hospital was quick and bumpy. You tried to remain positive, but after everything that happened tonight, you didn’t see the silver lining.

Steve and Sam rushed Bucky to the surgery, still letting Brock stay with you. The only good thing was that after a few minutes, Peter joined you as well, saying that both him and Drax were alright. Only a guy called Martin was shot, but despite it being human life that was lost, you couldn’t feel too sorry at the moment. Selfish, you knew, but your current situation was too pressing for your mind to care about anything else.

When Peter sat down, he instinctively grabbed your hand and squeezed, and this little gesture brought tears to your eyes. It felt like ages since somebody showed you anything but hatred or indifference.

Brock saw Peter’s hand and immediately went off.

“You fucking insane kid? This bitch orchestrated the whole thing, and you’re holding her hand as if she wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. She killed Bob for fuck’s sake! And if I hadn’t come in time, I bet she would’ve finished boss as well,” Brock barked so loud you flinched.

Peter frowned so hard deep ridges appeared on his forehead, and he looked between you and Brock. You could see the wheels in his mind turning, and you just hoped he would be smart enough to know that you would never endanger Bucky. You didn’t even know how you could endanger him, for god’s sake.

Peter didn’t let go of your hand even when he finally seemed to have reached a decision.

“I know Y/N, and I know she would never do anything like that. I think we don’t have enough information to make a decision here, but I believe Y/N is innocent. Aren’t you, Y/N?” Peter asked meekly, giving you a tight smile.

You chuckled sarcastically and looked at your hands. At that moment, it hit you. You just killed a man. Brock didn’t lie about that. You didn’t think about it at that moment, because you were protecting the man you loved, but the memory suddenly flooded your brain, and it felt like an out of body experience.

Seeing yourself pulling the trigger and the bullet hitting Bob’s forehead as if it was nothing, and the blood splattering everywhere, Bob falling down on the ground.

Nausea welled up in your stomach, and you almost had an issue reaching a litter box before you threw up. You emptied the contents of your stomach, but it didn’t help you, at all. You looked down at your hands, and you could see that dried up blood was covering them wholly. You knew that it must be Bucky’s because you tried stopping his bleeding, and your heart clenched in your chest.

You needed him to stay alive. Even if it meant that he woke up without memory and they would accuse you of trying to kill him, you needed to see him, at least one more time. See him alive, and kicking and your mind would be at peace. You just hoped you’d be allowed as much.

“Are you alright, Y/N? Want me to bring you anything?” Peter asked, worry laced in his voice.

“A glass of water would be nice,” you smiled at Peter who just nodded and rushed to the nearest wending machine to get you a bottle of water.

You could feel Brock’s eyes on you, but you didn’t have the energy to have a stare-off with him. You were praying to all the gods that were listening to you to save Bucky. He didn’t deserve to die, and definitely not because he was protecting you.

You stood up and walked towards the closest sink to wash the blood off of your hands, and to give you at least a feeling of cleanliness.

“Y/N!” Steve barked at you from where him, Sam, Brock and Peter were standing. The tone of his voice was everything but friendly and your stomach clenched again, and you were glad you didn’t have anything else to throw up.

You quickly came to where they were, and stood next to Steve, waiting for him to question you.

“Tell us everything that happened. Don’t leave a single thing out, we won’t make a decision just yet, not until Bucky’s up, if he wakes up, of course,” Steve growled the last bit of sentence, and you gasped, closing your eyes for a brief moment to collect yourself. You didn’t want to start crying in front of all those people, none of whom were looking at you with an ounce of familiarity anymore, except for Peter.

“We were almost out of the building when suddenly somebody started firing at us, and Bucky pushed me inside the room you found us in, and when he closed the door, I thought we were both alright, but when I looked at him, his face was contorted in pain, and I could see he was bleeding. I tried to stop the bleeding and tried to keep him up until you guys arrived. I called you, Steve, right away to get us, but you were taking so long.

And then I heard steps and thought it was you, but just to be sure I took Bucky’s gun. I aimed it at the person and then saw it was Bob. I wanted to lower it, but then he started talking, telling us that he came there to finish Bucky, but not before he would make Bucky watch him having his way with me. And when he made a move, I shot him. I didn’t know how to aim, I swear, I just pulled the trigger, and somehow I hit his head. And then you guys came,” you breathed out, your whole body shaking both from the memories and from the shock finally wearing off.

Peter noticed this and swiftly shrugged off his jacket and pulled it over your shoulders before he saw the look on Steve’s face and took a step backwards.

“Do you have any proof of that? Because from where I’m standing it seems like you tried to kill boss, Bob came in and saw what you were doing so you shot him as well, and before you could have done more, we appeared,” Brock hissed, and you just looked at him with disbelief.

“And why the fuck would I do that? Huh? I love Bucky, why in the hell would I want him dead? It doesn’t make any sense, Brock. I don’t know what your problem is, but I didn’t do it. I killed Bob, yes. And I’ll forever have to live with the knowledge that I killed another human being, just like that. But Bucky was in danger, and I just tried to save him. And I’m not gonna apologise for that,” you said, standing your ground.

So what that they didn’t believe you? You knew you did the right thing, and if you were in that situation again, you wouldn’t change a thing.

“It’s just that you’ve had Bucky around your finger from pretty much the start, and although we want Bucky happy, maybe this was your plan all around. Are you working for Pierce?” Steve growled and pushed you against the nearest wall.

You hit your head with a thud, not having the time to react to the pain shooting through your body, as Steve gripped you by your throat.

But you stood motionless. You didn’t even have the energy to fight his grip, knowing it would be useless anyway. It was Sam who pulled Steve off of you.

“Are you insane, bro? Like you said, we don’t know what happened, and we won’t know until Bucky wakes up, but if she’s innocent, Bucky will rip your head off for handling her this way. And if she proves guilty, I think Bucky will think of a way to make her suffer much more than the two of us ever can,” Sam said, trying to reason with Steve, whose judgement was obviously clouded.

When Steve finally let you go, your hands shoot up to your neck, massaging the sore skin. You were thankful to Sam, but you knew he did it mostly because he was afraid of Bucky’s reaction, and not because he would like you, or something like that. But, in a way, you understood them. It was your word against Brock’s, and they didn’t really know you that much, whereas they didn’t have a reason not to trust Brock.

“Could I call somebody? I just, I just don’t want to be alone right now,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. You felt like a prisoner in the most unfriendly environment, and you just needed to feel like there were people who still believed in you.

“Who? Wanna call your buddy Pierce?” Brock yelled, and the tears started falling, despite your effort of keeping them in.

“No,” you croaked out, “my best friend. I’ll call her and let it on the speaker so that you know I’m not plotting anything, I just… please,” you sniffled, and you didn’t know if they were actually sorry, or what was going on, but both Steve and Sam nodded sharply.

You took out your phone, seeing that it was 5 AM, and even though you didn’t want to wake Nat up, you didn’t see any other way.

After a few beeps, you could hear her croaky voice through the speaker.

“Nat? It’s me, I’m so sorry for waking you up, but something happened tonight, and I’m in the hospital, could you come, please?” You said, trying to sound as ok as you could, but you knew that there wasn’t any way to lie to Natasha.

Her tone changed from sleepy to business, and after you told her where you were, she told you she’d be there with a bunch of your clothes in a few minutes.

True to her words, Nat came in about 20 minutes, with a bag full of your clothes on her shoulder. The men looked her up and down, and Sam obviously gulped when Nat walked around him, but you were too tired to ask her about it. You would have to remember to ask her once this shit was over. If it would ever be over, you thought.

“God, Y/N! You looked like shit. Sweetheart, are you hurt somewhere?” Natasha asked motherly, and you could only nod, but still, you pulled her into a tight hug. You sobbed loudly into her hair, and she stroked your head and shoulders, trying to calm you down.

When you finally let her pull away, she raised an eyebrow as if to ask where were you hurt, and you shamelessly lifted your dress to show her your hip, which was not bleeding anymore per se, but there was still some blood and pus oozing out of the wound.

Nat winced, and before she took care of you, she turned around to face the men.

“You couldn’t let the doctors stitch her up? You have a woman bleeding here, and all of you are standing around like a bunch of dickheads, looking at her as if she took your favourite toy!” Nat growled at them, and when she saw Sam starting to say anything, she just raised her hand to silence him.

“You don’t get to fucking say anything. Actually, none of you does. I don’t know what you think Y/N did or didn’t do, and honestly? I don’t give a shit. She needs medical care, and you should have been attentive enough to notice that. But that would mean you sticking your heads out of your asses, and that just wouldn’t do for you, huh? Fucking mobsters,” Nat said under her breath as she helped you up and took you to the nearest nurse to show her your injury.

“Peter, go with them, just to be sure,” Sam mumbled as he watched Nat leave with you and a nurse disappearing in some door. Peter just nodded and ran after you.

“Rumlow, take a break, will you?” Steve said through clenched teeth, signalling to Brock that he was no longer needed there. That conversion would unfold in which he wasn’t welcomed.

When he walked away, Steve finally sat down, and Sam followed suit.

“So, what do you think? I just can’t wrap my head around it, and I want Buck to wake up and tell us what really happened,” Steve mumbled, massaging his temples. He was tired as hell, but he knew he needed to stay alert. Anything could still happen.

“I don’t know, man. Both stories seem to make sense, and either way, somebody betrayed Bucky, and that’s bad, man! I don’t even know who I wish it was, to be honest. I think it would forever damage Bucky if it was Y/N, so there’s a part of me that’s kind of hoping that it was fucking Bob who is the asshole in this story. But I don’t know, I really don’t,” Sam said, just as tired as Steve.

“I know, man, I know,” Steve breathed out, and they stared at the wall in front of them in silence. Even when you, Natasha, and Peter came back, nobody talked. All of you were exhausted, but the worry wouldn’t let you sleep.

It was some 10 hours after that that a doctor approached your little friendly group. The same doctor came to tell you that Bucky was after the surgery at around 8 AM, but that he was asleep, and you would have to wait till he woke up to see him.

“Mr Barnes is awake now, and he is asking for Ms Y/L/N. If you could follow me, miss?” The doctor said, and you got up quickly, following him without a doubt. You could tell that somebody was behind you, and even the doctor noticed it, as he raised his eyebrow at the person.

“I just need to make sure he is alright, sir,” Steve said stiffly, and because the doctor was well aware who he was dealing with, he just nodded and led the two of you to Bucky’s room. It was now or never, you thought as you walked inside the room, and you immediately caught the eyes of the man you loved. You just didn’t know if his expression was happy or not. But when he spoke up, you immediately knew.

/ Next Chapter >

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blackypanther9 · 3 years

Text

Part 21 - Let's be real for a moment...

Your POV.....

I already was at Stark Tower. I waited 30 seconds more and Tony was flying next to me. We need to stop this machine before it opens the portal for the Chitauri. These brainless idiots can't even open a box, without shooting at it.... The Chitauri are a very strong group...but they don't own a brain for thinking. They can nothing but destroy. Loki got the most useless people of the whole Universe. They can't even speak ! Pathetic. We saw this... Selvig guy on the machine. Tony spoke....

"Shut it down, Mr. Selvig."

"It's too late ! It can't stop now. It wants to show us something ! ....a new Universe.", he said.

I snorted.

"You mean more, a new enemy with death. A new Universe is a whole new Timeline, idiot. What you mean is a new race of something. It's bullshit !", I said.

"You don't see, what we see..", Selvig said.

"Okay then...", Tony said.

He aimed....

"Stark DON'T !!!!", I yelled.

....and shot at the machine... A shield or something blocked it and threw a hard explosion around itself. The machine didn't even had a scratch. We flew backwards and Selvig got unconscious. I stared at Stark with a death glare and listened to JARVIS.

"The barrier is of pure energy. It's unreachable."

"Alright then...plan B.", Tony said.

Tony looked down and I followed his stare.

"Oh.....shit. Plan B is....what ? Kick Loki until he falls unconscious ? Heh...yeah...that won't work...", I said.

"Just trust me.", Tony said.

"Have a hard time to do something like that....sorry."

He landed on some weird platform. That thing took of his robot uniform. While he walks. Loki walked to the stairs.

"What are you doing ?", I asked.

"Trust me.", he said.

"Not until you tell me what the hell you think you're doing ! He can kill you, by just throwing you out of the window !"

"Just play our little game with."

I huffed and went with Tony inside. Loki was already and started babbling.

"Please tell me you're both going to appeal to my humanity."

"Uh...actually we're planning to threaten you."

I looked at Tony, then at Loki.

"You should have left your armor on for that.", Loki said amused.

"Yeah.", Tony said.

Tony walked with me down the stairs.

"It's seen a bit of mileage and you got the, uh, glow stick of destiny.", Tony answered.

Loki looked at his scepter in amusement.

"Would you like a drink ?", Tony asked Loki.

Loki still looked amused.

"Stalling me won't change anything.", Loki said.

Tony went to his bar of drinks. He turned to him and said...

"No, no, no. Threatening."

Tony turned to me.

"Do you want a drink...Lucie ?"

I nodded my head. Tony nodded and took a glass with something in it. He looked at Loki again.

"No drink ? Are you sure ? I and Lucie are having one."

He took two glasses. Loki looked outside and went to the window.

"The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that.", Loki said.

"Boah ! You are funny. Just because we ask you if you want a drink, doesn't mean we are friends now.", I said.

Loki looked at me.

"I wasn't finished, Mortal."

"I don't care, Frosty. The Chitauri are a bunch of losers. When will you see that ?"

"Liar. You played like you were Luciella first, but you are nobody. You are not her and you are just some stupid, ugly Mortal, who thinks that playing with a God is funny."

"I am not what you say. I know who I am. You don't ! So watch you Silver Tongue ! Or else..."

"What have I to fear ?", Loki asked me with a grin.

"The Avengers.", Tony answered.

Tony looked up at us, I smiled and Loki looked at him confused as fuck. Tony shrugged.

"That's what we call ourselves. We're sort of like a team. ' Earth's mightiest heroes'- type thing", he explained.

"When do I get my drink ?", I whined.

"Any second. Come here.", Tony answered.

I went to him and stood next to him. I looked at him with excitement. He filled the liquid into the second glass and gave it to me. I took a sip. Yummy.

"Yes, I've met them.", Loki said amused.

Tony and I smiled back.

"Yeah.", we both said.

"It takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one. But let's do a head count here. Your Brother, the Demigod."

Loki looked away maybe...disgusted or more angry.... While Loki looked away, I saw Tony putting on some Wristbands.

"A super soldier, a living legend, who kinda of lives up to a legend. A man with breathtaking anger - management issues, a couple of master assassins, maybe a second demigod with more powers then Thor. And you, big fella,"

Tony pointed at Loki, who looked now really amused.

"you've managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan.", Loki said proud.

"Not a great plan. When they come, and they will, they'll come for you.", Tony told Loki.

I took another sip of my drink. Loki looked annoyed.

"I have an army.", he said.

"We have a Hulk.", we both said.

"I thought the beast had wandered off."

"You're missing the point. There is no throne. There is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you."

Loki looked at Tony, angry now.

"Because if we can't protect the Earth, you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it.", Tony added.

Tony and I took another sip of the drink. I drank it now empty. Loki walked to Tony dangerously closely. With a look, that would scare anybody, but not me and Tony.

"How will your friends have time for me, when they are so busy fighting you ?", Loki asked.

Loki raised his scepter, it glowed and blue magic danced around it. He touched with the top of the scepter Tony. .....nothing happened, just a cling was to hear. Loki lost his smile and tried again. ....Nothing. Loki looked at his scepter confused.

"This usually works..."

"Well, performance issues,", Tony grimaced and shrugged, "it's not uncommon."

Loki stared at Tony.

"One out of five -"

Loki grabbed Tony by his throat. He threw him on the ground, near the windows.

"TONY !", I screamed.

"JARVIS, anytime now.", Tony spoke.

Tony stood up and Loki grabbed him again by the throat.

"You will all fall before me.", Loki said.

"Deploy !", Tony called.

Loki lifted Tony up, still by the throat.

"Deploy !", Tony called again.

Loki threw him out of the window.

"TONY !!! NO !!", I screamed.

I heard a sound. I turned, Loki did also and Tony's Iron Man suit flew out. It hit Loki and flew out of the window in full speed. It was also more fixed. 30 seconds or so later and Tony was there again. Loki just stood up again.

"And there is one other person you pissed off. His name was Phil.", Tony told him.

Loki wanted to use the scepter and shoot at Tony, but Tony was faster and shot Loki. It hurts to see Loki get shot, but it's the only way to make him stop. Loki fell and lost the scepter. I felt something...bad happening. I saw a line of blue, reaching in the sky. The portal...it's open !

"Tony the portal !!!"

He looked up. The Chitauri came through the portal.

"Shit...", I cursed.

"Right. Army."

With that he flew away.

"And what about me ?! What are my orders ?! Babysitting the demigod, Lokster ?!", I screamed after Tony.

I saw the Chitauri shooting at Tony, but missing and Tony shooting and destroying the most of the Chitauri. I stared at Loki, who was smiling at me. I gave him my coldest death glare of the world. I went to him and slapped him across the face. Hard. He had a red mark and fell back to the ground groaning. He stared at me.

"What did you say, years before ? We are friends no matter what ? Guess what, you are wrong ! And what did I once say to you ? No matter who you are or what you do, I will always like you, no matter what ? Guess what again....I WAS A FOOL TO SAY THAT !", I screamed at him.

"You are not her ! Stop pretending that you were !", he yelled.

"Well, maybe you should turn on your God for saken brain and realize that it's me !!! It's my soul in another body you complete Moron !!! I grew in my exile too !! And you know what ?"

"What ?!"

"I am disappointed in you. Frigga and I hoped that you will find a way out, that you are fine and return to us. We BELIEVED in you ! We both cried over you ! Thor didn't do much anymore and Odin looked more shitty then you can imagine ! And now...look at you ! The oh so mighty depressed demigod, Loki destroys his chance of getting hugs and 'I missed you'-s ! I really was worried, you know ?! I was afraid he killed you !! Instead I see this thing here before me ! I can't even call you a person anymore ! You were my best friend and always knew what is right and what is wrong ! You always found a way out ! And now ?! MY Loki is gone, right ?! Did you forgot what you said ?! You never wanted the throne, you only wanted to be Thor's equal !"

Loki stared at me.

"You...are really....here ? You...you...are against me ?"

"I- Loki look around ! Of course I am now against you ! You are destroying New York !! You tell bullshit about 'The Tesseract opened my eyes and horizon.' ! What the fuck Loks ?! He is using you, like in Asgard Thor's friends do !! Wake up Loverboy ! This is another illusion, a lie he is feeding you !! I know him better than you do ! He won't keep his promise ! He just wants you to fulfill 2 tasks and both aren't your business !! They never were ! But you don't see it anymore !! He fooled the God of fricking Mischief and Lies !! Who are you again ?! The God of foolness ?! The God of 'I am too stupid to see a trap, even if it's right in front of my eyes' ?! You messed up, Loki !!!"

I had tears in my eyes and some ran down my cheeks.

"I was worried sick ! I always tried to contact you again, but it didn't work !! I just could wait and hope to God that you are fine and I will see you again !! Now I see you here, but as an murderer !! Tell me how am I carrying the fucking consequences for you ?! I loved you as a friend !! I- I saw you as a big brother ! I- !!"

I looked at him. He stared at me, with an apologetic look on his face. My tears streamed down like waterfalls. He came closer while I talked, I backed away. I looked behind me and....jumped down. I jumped out of the window and flew. I looked at him one last time.

"You don't even care. Why did I tell you this ? You don't even care..."

He wanted to say something, but I already flew away and into the fight.

'I am sorry...' - Loki

'I hate you. Get out of my head.'- You

'He really messed up.' - Heiko

'Can I kill him ?' - Ratchel

'No. Asgard will punish him.' - You

'Can I hurt him at least ?' - Ratchel

'Maybe. Darko is out for a few days...Mimi ?' - You

'Yeah ?' - Mimi

'Stop hurting my heart. Crying won't solve anything.' - You

'I-I try...' - Mimi

'Thanks.' - You

'Let's kill some dumb Chitauri.' - Ratchel and Heiko

Part 22

Masterlist with all Chapters of this Story click here !

#Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Marvel #Thor #Loki x Reader

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entitycradle · 3 years

Text

A Tree Without Wind

Content warnings: mention of, discussion of, threats of, and plans to commit suicide. Panic attacks, disassociation, and paranoia are described, sometimes in detail. An eating disorder is alluded to. Characters are horny for each other but there’s nothing sexually explicit.

I promise the ending is hopeful. I genuinely am not trying to trick you, I know what this sort of thing is like, I want to respect your capacity while still being truthful to the experience and allowing tension in the story. If you’re in the right place for it, click that button.

A TREE WITHOUT WIND

I was nine years old the first time Phoenix told me he was going to kill himself. Is that too brutal? Sorry. It's where this starts. We were outside, in the morning before it got too hot, kicking around a ball in the scrubby grass. We used the long shadow of the I34Q tower to make the rules--you can't use your hands if you're in the sun, that sorta thing. It was fun because the boundaries of the shadow were always moving with the shape of the tower, and because the tower was a little scary. Phoenix lost a game and just said it, frustrated, "I'm gonna kill myself." I laughed.

When I was that age I loved looking at the shadow of the tower, because it made so much more sense than the real thing. You'd look at the dark, fuzzy stain on the ground and you could imagine it was some sort of antenna, or house, or marker. But then you'd look at the structure itself and your eyes would glaze over trying to figure it out. Unevenly rotating, stacked polyhedral structures, dark gray but covered with a rainbow film like an oil slick. Irregular pieces would be transferred between different sections with no apparent pattern. It smelled like someone you'd never met. The tower was doing something but no one was ever clear on what. That's how it is with I34Q stuff, I think.

I'm stalling. It was some stupid shit, he must've picked it up from some awful caster or something. As a kid Phoenix liked that sorta thing. He'd watch videos of mean people cursing and laughing and he'd laugh with them. I preferred my cartoons, or the I34Q casts, as weird as they were. Later I repeated what he said when I found out my dad was making squash for dinner, "I'm gonna kill myself," and my mom told me off pretty hard. Kept me from saying it again, at least in school and at home. Phoenix kept at it though.

- = -

Phoenix and I got put in the same dormitory when we went to T-school. Do they call it T-school in other places? It's the thing where 4Q tanks (as in I34Q) come and take a bunch of eleven-year-old kids to stay at "training" facilities. No one I've asked knows what T-school is actually for, same as the towers, same as all the 4Q stuff like I said before. An organic shape attached to the ground heads a classroom, gibbering except for the occasional english sentence (Phoenix said he also recognized some Cantonese). Mrs. Lough, who apparently also lives in the facility, tries to teach "formalist english," which is like english but the rules contradict themselves. You take notes on the behavior of a tank filled with inky fluid for four hours a week. One day a three-legged machine packs up your stuff and shepherds you to the gate.

I was ejected a year and a half after Phoenix. I went home on the bus and met him at burger king that afternoon. I caught a glimpse of him from outside. His hair was in long, tight braids. I felt self-conscious about the uncontrollable smile growing on my face. "Aco!" he said through a grin as I opened the glass door. A green poster advertised a meal made from "water beads," an I34Q plant thing.

"Dang," I said, grinning as I sat down. "Dang."

"You make it out? Fuck you to 4Q?" He'd stopped eating to greet me. His grin looked as uncontrollable as mine. Phoenix's nose was wide and flat, also like mine.

"Fork you, 4Q." I still felt nervous about cursing. I was fourteen. "How ya doing, Phoenix?"

"I'm good, I'm good. High school is interesting."

"Oh, man..."

"It's actually like, fucking nice to understand what's happening. But now there are actual smart kids and you actually get punished when you, y'know, mouth off. I'm like, I gotta get around to--" He swiped with his hand, bent his neck, and made a cracking sound with his mouth. I laughed. "Don't worry, I'll show you around. Maybe we'll have a class together."

- = -

We did have a class together. High school with Phoenix was fun, because I got to have a proper crush on him. Pining, sexuality, youthful obsession, yards and yards of it. It was weird, we kinda drifted--Phoenix hung out with kids that I was afraid of, I hung out with kids who played too many videogames. As our familiarity waned, I started seeing him differently. A foreign, adult desire began to penetrate me, replacing childish affection. It took me a while to realize that's what was happening.

It was a shame our familiarity waned, though, because Phoenix was really struggling, and I didn't see it. His friends were mean, when they weren't outright abusive. Not a lot of people liked him. I learned later that he started hurting himself when he was sixteen. Little cigarette burns, and then cuts. He got put on meds at seventeen--the wrong meds, for a year. He went to a psych ward when he was nineteen. His family did not have the money to pay for an extended stay. I still don't know exactly how that worked out. I do know he went into debt after his second stay two years later.

I wasn't doing too well myself, after I hit twenty-two. Something in me broke I guess. So when Phoenix told me he was going to travel to the Santitos digger and throw himself off a cliff, it didn't take me very long to ask if I could go with him.

- = -

"I... I didn't..." He paused for a long time. Ten seconds of silence feels unbearably long in a conversation, and I was quiet for fifteen. My teeth held each other tightly as his thoughts whirled. "I didn't..." He looked me in the eyes. There was an intensity to both our gazes. He'd stuck his jaw out, just a little. "I guess I did. I was, kinda, hoping you'd say that."

"Fuck," I said, looking away and down. "Fuck." I put a hand over my eyes, gripping my face as tears came.

"I'm gonna die," he said, beginning to smile and looking up. I felt the discomfort I'd felt since we were nine.

"Yeah, I wanna go, I wanna go," I said, pulling my hand away midway through and looking back at him with a force I didn't recognize.

He looked back at me and said, "I'm gonna die, and you're gonna die with me."

- = -

The Santitos digger is in northern California, in the Redwood national park. People have figured out the basic idea of what the digger is doing, unlike the towers or the T-schools: the digger is making a big hole. I'd heard that in some places it had dug more than a mile, almost straight down. Don't ask me how the digger would've done that. Don't ask me why it's called Santitos, either, since it's pretty big and not very saintly. Maybe it was the name of a town. Getting to the digger from Prince George County was about fifty hours.

"I figure we could do it in three days if we really fuck-you-pushed-it. But I'm planning on five." I craned my neck to look at Phoenix's cracked phone screen, where he'd pulled up the route.

Gas is expensive because 4Q takes most of it. Basically no one flies. Even in Phoenix's hybrid, it would be a thousand dollars to get to the west coast. But it's not like we'd need the money afterwards.

"We'll eat along the way," he continued. I bit my thumbnail. "I'm not picky, we'll just stop at wherever they won't run us out of town."

We'd sleep in the car. It was April, so temperature wouldn't be a concern. I packed a change of clothes, a water bottle, my meds, and a box cutter I'd stolen from my last job.

The next morning, he pulled his blue, dented '38 prius in front of my apartment building. I saw the car arrive out the window. There was an anxious pit in my stomach that deepened when I opened my front door. I didn't want anyone to see me. This is it, I thought, this is it, this is it. I repeated that phrase down the stairs. My landlord could fucking charge rent to my corpse, I could give a shit. This is it, I thought. That final T stretched to enrobe me. The sky was gray and wet. The sensation wasn't enough to rip me from my inwards reverie. I was about to get in the back of the car when Phoenix spoke. "That ain't it."

He was leaning out the window, regarding me coolly. "Morning. Shall we go?" I walked around the car and got in the front seat.

- = -

Virginia is beautiful once you get into the mountains, forested and rolling. I told Phoenix, "Once I read the Appalachians are millions of years old, and used to be taller than the Himalayas."

"No shit. Was there like an Everest? Where's the old Everest?"

"I don't know, I never heard anything about that. But yeah the continental plates looked totally different. And then things changed and the rain and wind and plants broke them down."

"Hah. Fucking awful. Just being broken down like that. I mean, it's better than what 4Q did to Everest."

I was quiet for a moment. "That's... the worst thing they did, right?"

"I dunno, dude, I think taking kids from their families is worse."

"No, right, right. But like... Everest was like... like everyone knew about Everest. When I was really little I had this big book about mountains and I read the bit on Everest so many times. And now it's like... they made it about them. And people lived in the Himalayas before 4Q came! It forced everyone out and carved a bunch of nonsense into it. A forever reminder that we're below them."

"Hah, literally. Hmmm. I still wouldn't say worst, but, I get what you mean. I'm so numb to it. It's good some people still care." Phoenix shrugged. "I mean I dunno. It doesn't matter much to me, at this point. But from an outside perspective it's good."

That first evening was alright. I drove Phoenix into a beautiful sunset. You hear the phrase "rode off into the sunset" and you think, what a nice ending, but it's not really an ending. If you're the cowboy you keep riding, and eventually the sky darkens and you have to set up camp and eat and sleep and wake up the next morning and eat and go riding again. A feeling of dread and desperation fills me when I think of surviving alone like that. Maybe I'd get used to it. The trip to Santitos was an attempt to write a story with a proper ending.

We didn't stop until we crossed into Illinois. We parked on the shoulder of a country road. I used the light in the car to look at the atlas we'd bought for when we didn't have cell service, and laughed. "We've been in five states today. Pretty good. Keep it up and we'll have visited every state by June."

"What the--?" Phoenix snorted, laughing. "You mean if we visit five states a day. Asshole."

I always giggled when he snorted and called me an asshole. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Fucking dumb. Doesn't even work. You'd have to wake up in a different state than you fell asleep in." He caught my eye. The smile felt intimate, mutual. Born of sleepy exhaustion from a shared journey. I looked at the divot between his nose and upper lip.

I realized something. "Shit, I forgot to bring a blanket."

"Poor baby. You cold?"

"Hmm. I guess not really."

"Oh, you know what I do have..." He leaned towards me and reached toward the back seat. I watched his shirt stretch over his chest. Phoenix retrieved a big gray sweater. "Feel free to stretch it out."

My fingertips touched the back of his hands as I took the bundle. I did that on purpose. His skin was warmer than I expected, as skin always is. We tipped our seats back. Not the most comfortable, though the sweater would help, hopefully. I checked out Phoenix to see him on his side, looking at me and smiling. I let my own smile relax into me as I watched his eyes. His irises were a rich, beautiful brown. His skin was the color of cardboard in your childhood memories. I loved the way his smile wasn't symmetrical, wider on one side than the other. I carefully resisted scanning my gaze down his body. I actually saw his eyes flick down my form, instantaneously. His eyelids half-lowered, and then, horribly, what seemed to be a great tide of sadness overtook him. I watched him hold it back. I watched his smile mix with growing grief and fear, then bow to neutrality. He covered his gaze with his eyelids, breathed in, breathed out. "All right," he whispered, then opened his eyes. The gaze was gone. "Time to sleep." He sat up and turned off the light.

The sweater had a very particular, subtle smell to it. I guess it was his smell. I was desperately horny, yet blasted to pieces. A heady mix.

"I think I could fall in love with you, if things were a little different." He broke the silence, fifteen minutes later. "I probably would. But I'd cling to you like a fucking baby. And you're here, right?" He paused. For a response? I didn't give him one in time. "That's what I mean, codependent hell. I'd only be alive for you, and you'd only be alive for me, and then the second anything goes wrong we'd be right back here except I'd, fucking, direct all my shittiness at you... and you'd blame yourself."

I was quiet. "Ain't... ain't being codependent better than dying?"

"Hah! But that's what I'm saying, it doesn't change anything, it just leads us back here."

I fumbled for something. "Yeah but if it could... like stave it off..."

"Why is that good? The world is fucked, Acoatl, totally and truly fucked. Things don't get better from here, for me, for people. Should I beg? Stay here in misery out of some misplaced sense of morality? We're doing the only thing that makes sense."

I stayed quiet, not unconvinced. Sleep came, eventually, uncomfortably, anxiously.

- = -

The International Astronomical Union provisionally called it 8I/2034 Q1. I had to look that up. The eighth interstellar comet discovered, identified in 2034. I don't know what Q1 means. The name was briefly changed to 8I/Pasarati, for the research group that had discovered it, but by that time I34Q was clearly accelerating non-gravitationally and on an Earthbound trajectory. 8I/Pasarati is still in orbit, technically. You can see it through a telescope, it's like five miles across. But I34Q is the name for all of it, the craft that came to the surface, the life it brought with it, the structures it built, the war, all the consequences. No one can make any sense of it, except the one thing everyone knows: something else controls the world now.

- = -

I just barely remember waking up to switch seats in the morning, and then desiring nothing more than to return to sleep. Eventually Phoenix nudged me awake. "Hey." We were parked somewhere in Missouri. I'd slept all the way through the night and Phoenix's turn to drive. At least twelve hours, depending on when I actually fell asleep last night. I'd missed the big arch in St. Louis.

Phoenix was curt and reserved as I drove. I thought he was still thinking about last night, or angry at me for leaving him alone on his drive. Then he tilted his head back and began to gag. "My... heart..." Tears streamed down him face.

"Phoenix." I glanced back and forth between him and the road. There were abandoned cars on the shoulder; I couldn't pull over. "Phoenix, Phoenix, um."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop." He bent, heaved, and emitted a yowling, harsh retch. Nothing else left his mouth. "My heart..." He was breathing hard. A panic attack, I realized, stupidly too late.

"Do we have..." Panic attacks can be interrupted with certain intense sensations. The general goal is to increase awareness of the environment, focus the mind on the current moment rather than the future or past. Holding an ice cube can help. There were no ice cubes. I reached into the back seat for my water bottle, which would at least be cool. A truck behind us laid on the horn. I swerved back into my lane. "Sorry." Phoenix dry heaved again. It was a uniquely distressing sound.

I searched for the hazards, feeling useless. Far too much time passed before I found them and started slowing down. A different truck laid on a different horn. I was able to slip in a gap on the shoulder between an abandoned pickup and a rusting minivan.

I led Phoenix onto the tall grass beyond the asphalt, where he collapsed onto all fours. His torso flexed as he heaved. I put a hand on his back. "Phoenix, look at the trees." There were bushy, broken trees lining the sides of the highway, a vibrant green against the blue and white sky. "The, listen to the road." No, the road was stressing me the fuck out. "Listen to the grass waving, feel it." Stalks crumpled in his fists. I twisted my head and saw the tip of an I34Q tower peeking up over the treeline. "Look, a tower, just like when we were kids." Over the next few minutes, his breathing slowed, his heaving stopped. But the tears stayed. He sobbed away the panic. I read somewhere that tears actually contain different chemicals depending on the emotion causing them. Something to do with hormones I think.

He apologized to me. I would've done the same thing. I've done the same thing. So I got it, but felt indignant at having understood--he didn't need to apologize!

We got back on the road and listened to static on the radio. Sometimes the edge of a station would pass by, and we'd get fuzzy country, or christian rock. I changed it whenever there was a sermon. Sermons always come back to 4Q and they're always awful. The 4Q broadcasts are actually better than sermons about 4Q. They're kind of like static, anyway, totally unintelligible. We encountered more of them than I expected. Maybe static itself is a 4Q broadcast. I don't think that's right, I think static is like cosmic background radiation. But maybe 4Q has changed it somehow, like it used to be white noise and now it's blue noise, a different random distribution but still random.

"I'm off my meds," he said, as we rolled into darkness. The moon was a crescent, low on the western horizon. He spoke flatly and calmly. "I didn't even bring them with me. I thought you should know."

I hesitated. I wanted to voice this diplomatically. But then, we'd be dead in four days, anyway. "Is that why you had the attack?"

"No. I panic even on meds." That made sense. I remembered a few times in the past year when he'd canceled an event with little notice, or left early. "But I'm not a person right now, and that's definitely because I'm off my meds."

"You're not a person right now?"

"Yeah. It's called depersonalization. Also derealization, which is when nothing is real. Or that's how it feels, as I'm told. It's pretty freaky if I'm honest. You don't get the same emotional reaction from stuff. It feels like you're watching from somewhere else." He wasn't looking at me. He was looking down. "You're not you. You're not even real." He whispered. "Pretty freaky."

"Can I--do you--"

"Ahh, I'm coming out of it. Some of it is just recognizing that you're in it." He drew a knee up to his chest and shook his head. "Uhh, could you. Could you hold my hand. Touch helps."

I gripped the wheel with my left hand and held his palm with my right. It was warm and sweaty. I wish I could say that was okay. I felt miserable. I wanted to feel happy, holding his hand, comforting him. I didn't.

Sleep came quicker that night, though still uncomfortable, still anxious.

- = -

I slept late, again. I hadn't touched the chicken sandwich I'd gotten from a drive-thru last night. It had awful 4Q stuff on it anyway. I hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, so I was pretty hungry, but I had no actual desire to eat. I'd deal with it later.

My own panic attack must've seemed similarly unbidden to Phoenix, though I felt it coming about an hour beforehand, and tried to stave it off. We were on I-80, driving through the hypnotizing flatness of Nebraska. Every ten or fifteen minutes I kept seeing this scarlet structure. It was like a giant, bloody caricature of a water tower, a skinny, triangular column maybe ten feet across and at least two hundred feet tall, supporting an enormous squashed sphere more than twice as wide as the column was tall. I'd watch it rise from the horizon, far too big. I'd never seen them before but guessed they must be 4Q. I started thinking we were somehow traveling in a loop, that my sense of direction was faulty and we were passing the same structure in the same field over and over again. Then I started thinking about how crazy that sounded. But I couldn't stop the thought.

I wanted to pull over but I couldn't stop anywhere in view of the structure, because it was watching me. Of course it wasn't, but I couldn't stop the thought that it was. Hell, maybe it was. Maybe only the mad can decode the purpose of I34Q stuff. I felt how hard I was breathing and glanced over at Phoenix, wondering why he hadn't said anything. He was staring down. He was probably disassociating again, I realized later, but at the time all I knew was that I was alone.

I get angry at myself after my attacks. I feel so stupid. Phoenix apologized to me that night, which made me feel even stupider. I couldn't wait to get to the Santitos digger.

- = -

The next day was bad. Quiet, lonely, and frustrated. A further reminder of the reasons. I saw patches of 4Q purple grass climbing up the Rockies. We both took long shifts and entered Redwood park just after midnight.

- = -

I read a story once about a man that was falling in the dark. He was falling so far that he would die instantly when he hit the ground. He realized that his brain wouldn't have time to process the impact, or even the few moments before. And he couldn't see the ground. He couldn't see anything. All that was left in the world was him and his death. I wondered if Phoenix had read the same story, and was hoping for a similar effect, coming here at night. Of course, we got it wrong. There were clouds, burgundy with light pollution, and every few minutes a star would gaze through; an unearthly glow was cast up from distant pieces of the digger.

Some parts of the digger looked like the towers, spinning and shifting. Some parts looked like exposed microelectronics, cables sutured to shiny terminals of minute complexity. Some parts were just made of asphalt blocks, cream-, gray-, and lime-colored pebbles tightly embedded in dark tar. Distant redwoods, many damaged by fire, ringed the horizon. The Santitos digger was less an object and more a place.

I felt wordlessly close to Phoenix as we scrambled over asphalt, looking for a pit. We touched each other frequently in our effort, to assist, to communicate. We'd have to give each other boosts, lift each other up, look for alternate routes. This place was not made for people.

Finally we came upon a deep canyon. I had half a mind to walk off the edge immediately. But both Phoenix and I stopped to regard it.

I couldn't tell if the rumors were true. You could only see maybe a hundred yards down before the walls of the abyss disappeared into ink. Or, not ink--not blackness, either. People are black. This was something else. The most prominent features were the semi-perceivable red blotches left on my optic nerve after gazing at one of the digger's glowing sectors. The unknowable told me nothing. It just revealed the flaws of my being. Maybe we would achieve our effect after all.

"This is it," I said, elliptically. The beginning is the end. If you take out the 'h' that phrase is a palindrome. "That was the first thing I said out of the door before I got into your car on Saturday. If you take out the 'h' the phrase is a palindrome. The beginning is the end. This is elliptical. This is it."

"That ain't it." He was regarding me coolly.

I laughed.

He was angry. "Are you fucking kidding me? The point of this thing, the whole fucking point is you do it in your right mind. You're letting your madness make the decision for you. You have to make the decision!"

I found that extremely funny. I laughed harder.

"Shut up! Fuck!"

"What's a right mind?" I asked, still grinning. "There's no such thing anymore. Even when it was a thing, all it meant was the most socially-acceptable, capital-promoting mind. Now? The world doesn't fit us anymore. The human condition is inconvenient to its purpose. 4Q can't even train us. The right mind is a dead one. You want a right mind, go ahead." I gestured at the abyss. That's what I did.

He stepped forward. He stepped forward. A foot hung above the end.

I don't know what I would've done if he had lowered that foot, changing his balance, tipping him forward. Jumping in after him wouldn't have felt right. Maybe I'd have gone back to those red eyes in Nebraska and begged for them to torture me. Maybe his idiosyncrasies would have been repelled by the unknowable, flowing away from his body and into me, and I'd be lost forever in a derealized paranoia. Maybe I'd have gotten in the car and driven back home.

His foot remained, hanging, the edge a gallows. "Suicide is about pain. It's the ultimate response to ongoing distress. I never wanted you to be normal. I just didn't want you to be in pain. In a twisted way, I guess I thought, if this was your way of dealing with pain, I wasn't going to stop you. That is your right. I feel like that has to be your right." His balance was incredible. He remained still, a tree without wind. "But you can be abnormal, you can be a bad fit for the world, you can be utterly broken, and you can still live without pain." We're both crying. Tears descend into the pit.

| ' , |

I do think madness is the right way to understand I34Q. I feel this mysteriously. I wonder what it would be like if I tried going to T-school while embracing my altered states, living in them. I suspect Phoenix would have more success, being more comfortable with unreality. Not that either of us would participate in whatever hegemony 4Q perpetuates. More that we'd figure out what it wanted, and how to resist. I've been thinking about this a lot. Maybe other people are, too. We need to find each other.

Phoenix and I wandered north. We found this incredible queer community in Oregon, with actual traditions and mechanisms to deal with communal trauma. I can't say anything about the world, the world is unknowable. But I think there's hope for us.

Phoenix and I are together, now, in a way I can't quite name. We did finally make love. That was beautiful. But we don't live together. I make love to other people, sometimes, and he does the same. Sometimes I'll go a week or two without seeing him, without notice. Sometimes I'll go a few days without even thinking about him. I love him, and I tell him that, and he says the same to me, though both of us have admitted that we don't know what that means.

We still panic. I still get paranoid. Phoenix disassociates. He's been using the state to make art. I think about I34Q and write down what I think. I'm pretty good at eating regularly, even if I don't feel like it. I don't know if we're living without pain. I think maybe that's a pretty tall order. But I don't want to kill myself anymore. So I think that's pretty good.

[Ed.: have this little treat. It takes me about the length of this playlist to read the story.]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5VD5lJJqNUJsITPj3Rg8Sn?si=d262096479104d4f

#fiction #short fiction #science fiction #aliens #madness #suicide #panic attack #disassociation #paranoia #eating disorder #hopeful ending

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